Please Figure It Out
by jewishushanka
Summary: Looking back, Craig never had the easiest lifestyle. They were often harassed for something they didn't really have a choice in. GenderQueer!Craig. Pairings are questionable at this time.
1. Chapter 1

_**I recently read the novel **_**Brooklyn, Burning** _**and I was inspired in the way Steven Brezenoff wrote the main characters. Never revealing their genders and allowing the reader to think for themselves. I had already came up with the idea of wanting to write a story for this fandom with a character in the Gender Queer community and after reading this novel, it's increased my want for writing this. So I'm gonna leave it up to you guys. How the main character is perceived and not assume them as the way they were originally created in the show. That's not what I'm going for.**_

_**(And if haven't heard of nor read **_**Brooklyn, Burning; **_**I definitely recommend checking it out. It's worth the tale.)**_

* * *

**Prologue: Expand Your Horizons.**

The fact that different individuals perceive sex and gender as two separate concepts is a sickening thought. That one could be born as a sex they weren't meant to and it stays that way until the day they leave this Earth. Even though you go through the hard and struggling process of a sex change, you're still misgendered. People don't give a damned. They can't expand their horizons from how this subject was looked upon just twenty years ago.

Several individuals are ridiculed for something they had no choice in. They didn't choose this path of fighting for what they felt was right, didn't choose the path of being murdered for practically no reason, rape wasn't an option they wanted either.

Just goes to show how close minded our world still is. How belittling them and making their lives living hell is okay. Just to be reminded; it isn't. Discrimination is not okay.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter One: Responses.**

What I could do is start this whole thing at the time I first felt this way. Back in the fourth grade, when everyone went through the whole metrosexual phase in our town. I was one of the biggest contenders in the fad. In fact my group and another were the ones that really got into it. After the phase had come to an end, I had trouble understanding why I was enjoying this more than anyone else did.. I was supposed to be like my friends and follow what they liked right? I wasn't supposed to want to go the extra mile and start combining the two genders. I wasn't supposed to feel this way. But I did.

For Christmas, I asked my parents for clothing they never thought they'd hear me ask for. Unexpectedly, I was turned down to my face. I was told by my Father 'No child of mine is going to be represented as a fag.' And my Mother wholeheartedly agreed. I was devastated. Why was it okay that just a few weeks ago I could be metrosexual but was now turned down for wanting to continue?

That was the first time I figured I wasn't what I originally thought I was.

In middle school, the next questioning I found myself asking was what the fuck is sexuality. Oh, that was a fun one. Wasn't it supposed to be that everyone was heterosexual and found the opposite sex attractive? Never did you questioned it, because it was _right._ First off, while all my friends, (and pretty much everyone else at that point) had experienced some kind of relationship, I still hadn't. What I found was I didn't classify anyone as attractive. Not that they weren't good to look at or anything of that nature, I just wasn't feeling anything 'down there' or in my heart like the other's had.

I'm not going to go ahead and tell you what I've figured out I am. I don't feel it's important to the story line. Who the fuck I choose to be with shouldn't be any of your business. It should only be of my concern, and that's how I'm going to keep it.

I now fast forward to the important years of my life. The ones that actually prove a point. Like when I finally decided to be how I really felt. And not be this false illusion of who everyone else wanted me to be. An estimate of when this was would, again, be sometime around middle school. Those years when kids actually began to stray away from the huge mass of friends you had during elementary and start to become 'yourself.'

Most of the time, kids follow what they see on tv or what they witness in magazines. Which is usually what the celebrities are doing. For my case, it was finally going back to what happened a few years back. Going back to what I thought (at the time) was metrosexual. The mixture of still being hetrosexual but having the traits of a homosexual. Or in my case: femininity.

This also goes back to when I still thought I was hetero. Cute, little, straight Craig Tucker. They were such a dream. I only say this because… Sometimes I wish I wasn't the way I am. Sometimes I wish I could be like any other individual who hasn't had a second thought about who they were or their sexual orientation. Where I could be what others perceive as normal. Straight. In love with a female. And engaging in sex. I am none of those things. Perhaps; if I were never introduced into knowing about metrosexuality was at a young age, I would be what I've dreamt of being at times.

But then again. I wouldn't want to. There's a reason why I am who I am. And I've learned to embrace it. Not by shoving it in the face of every person I run into, but to not be afraid of telling an individual about my lifestyle when asked. Where I can go out in public; not giving a shit what anybody thought as they watched me walk down the street. I can be myself.

I remember walking into eighth grade. The week before school started I received braces (which I wasn't too happy about. But I was in dire need of straightening my teeth.) My hair was freshly cut. Trimmed in a pretty casual masculine style. Short in the back but in the front crisp, straight bangs. Cut right above my eyes. Full of volume like a Japanese schoolgirl's would be and the section with the most hair. It was a mixture of both masculine and feminine. I was in love with it. (Still am.) No one seemed to care too much about those factors. What mattered to them was the fact that I was wearing a crisp white button up, paired with ebony black suspenders. A pullover grey cardigan was wrapped loosely around my waist. My legs wore normal length (for males) shorts, except instead of being loose around my legs, they were snug and hugged my thighs for dear life. They were a darker grey than my cardigan, looking real well with the tights I wore underneath. The tights must have been the breaking point for my whole outfit. Because that was what was commented about the most. The fact that I was wearing an article of female clothing. Black tights with a strip of lace going down the side of either leg. Apparently males weren't allowed to wear them, even though in Shakespearean times men who wore tights was a pretty big thing.

One thing I hate about today, is the fact that clothing is categorized by gender. Females are supposed to be the ones to appear 'pretty'. They get all the dresses and skirts of every length possible. Any fabric of choice. As thick or thin as wanted. They're allowed all the accessories. The ribbon and lace and big bows and gems. All of which you can either wear in your hair or on your body wherever it may go. Females are allowed the variety. They're allowed the makeup that they can wear on their face to hide blemishes or to look more beautiful than they already are. Never once are you faced with witnessing a girl being asked why they're wearing such things because it's _right._ It's the social norm in society.

Now think about males. And they get the boring end of the stick. Graphic tee shirts with (for most of time) a stupid slogan, jeans in the colours of either blue or black, shoes pretty much always look the same. Sure it's a different brand, but they're mainly the tennis shoes no one cares about, or the black work shoes, or the occasional boots they choose to wear. You may see many males wear hats, there's plenty of them out there… But that's as far as the accessories go, right? Plain and to the point. Males aren't supposed to care what they look like. Be somewhat presentable yet just enough that they can still do their job. We don't question why it's this way. It just is.

As I walk to my homeroom that same year, all eyes are on me. They had been since I set foot in the damned building. It caused a commotion. No one had heard from Craig Tucker during the whole summer break. No one except one, who couldn't help them at this moment in time, because they didn't have the same homeroom teacher. No one had expected this thirteen year old child to go against the social normality and wear something that society deemed as 'not okay'. Especially from someone like myself.

Immediately, I was teased. I was called a faggot and other equally nasty remarks. And yet, no one stood up and stopped what was happening. They continued to watch in silence. Thought that if they intervened they'd be considered a fag as well.

This year was the beginning of ultimate hell. I'll probably go back and make reference to it plenty of times because this was when I lost everything. My friends. My family. My easy lifestyle. But it was also the mark of something greater. The beginning of finally understanding how cruel and injustice this world truly is.

* * *

Earlier I mentioned a friend. They weren't my only one throughout childhood or anything lame like that, but they were the only one I was truly close to. Who didn't question my motives. They were my support. Who stuck with my journey from the very beginning.

Rumours went flying. As soon as homeroom let out was when the talk started. Kids ran up to whoever was their best friend at the time and they described the monstrosity that happened. Most kids laughed. Hell, right to my face as I passed them in the halls. But there were some who did more than that. They were the physical type. The kids who felt the only way to express what they were feeling was through contact. I was shoved for the most part. One fucker even spat on me. But what I wasn't understanding, was why this was happening.

Wasn't I same person I was the last time they saw me? My personality didn't change. (That wouldn't be until later.) I hadn't spoken two words since I walked in the building. But the fact that I looked a slight bit feminine, was what angered their flames.

I didn't go to my first period. Instead I made a detour and went to my friend's class. I assumed by now they would have heard the shit our peers were saying. So I hurried in the classroom of some English class, spotting them in the back row and called them towards me. They stood up right away, smiling slightly. I always adored their smile. It was the kind that would light up any room they were in. As they passed the kids who were entering the room, those who were giving odd looks, my heart quickened its pace. Running faster than what it did before I stepped foot on the school grounds. I was nervous for how they'd be treated after they were seen talking to me. I didn't want anything bad to happen. Although; something always did.

"Tweek this isn't what I expected!" I started as soon as we were seated in the hallway. "I figured I'd have some shit, but nothing compared to this."

We're so funny when we're young and innocent. Always believing society is one way; the way that's accepting towards your decisions… As long as it's something everyone agrees upon. This was my awakening call. What opened my eyes to the darker side of people. I was just lucky to have at least one person on my side.

"I've heard the things kids are already saying. Note it's only the first period of the day. The first day back, at that. And word has gotten around _pretty _quick. I wasn't expecting this type of reaction either, C. I mean, we've practically grown up with these kids and to see them backlash so fast is almost sickening."

I watched as Tweek fingered his hair. It was something he always did as he spoke. And most of the time, his fingers would get stuck in his hair. Which would then follow having the pleasure of watching him fish them out. I always admired Tweek for his looks. So I'd often find myself getting lost while staring his way. This being one those instances.

He could tell I wasn't listening as he continued to talk. But he also didn't mind. Sometimes I like to think he loves hearing his own voice. I always thought of it as too loud for his appearance. Tweek looked like the shy type who was mainly quiet even around his friends, but in contrast, his voice was loud. His words often trailing as he ended sentences. Maybe that was why I zoned out so much. That and getting lost in his facial expressions.

Footsteps were being heard behind where we sat. The hallways had tiles whereas the classrooms were filled with grey carpets. The footsteps very clearly belonged to a females. The clicking of heels beginning to get closer. Perhaps sitting in the hall wasn't the smartest of choices. Hence we could get caught by any teacher (Or anybody at that matter) who could tell us to get back to first period. Luckily for our case, this person wasn't a teacher. But that could also be worse. It meant it was someone close to us in age, and they were bound to have heard the rumours.

Bebe Stevens was probably the prettiest girl in our grade. Always was. Starting from elementary and following her up to senior year, Bebe was always described as being super pretty. Or whatever adjective you wanted to use of similar meaning. The first day of eighth grade, Bebe wore black stiletto heels. (The ones that created the clicking) Paired with a simple black skirt and a generic blue V-neck shirt. The blue did wonders for her eyes. I was always jealous of people who were granted blue eyes. They were the only type that truly showed colour and the way your pupils were formed. Having deep brown eyes, I usually had a difficult time deciphering the two apart.

She was approaching us, and I couldn't help but turn around to face her. Bebe's curly blonde hair bouncing with every step she took. She smiled wide as our eyes met. I couldn't help but return the favour.

"Just look how cute you are, Craig Tucker. I can't believe my eyes!" Bebe exclaimed

Bebe Stevens would be the second person to accept my choices. Never would we become as close as Tweek and I were, but she would pop up at the most random of times and provide me with a confidence boost. A simple compliment was all it took from her.

"What exactly are you two doing in the middle of the hall?"

Tweek and I exchanged glances.

"C just needed someone to talk to. Sure you've heard what jerks are saying, right?"

The curly blonde nodded. A pout showing on her face. "I have. Glad to have seen it with my own eyes, because lemme tell you something. You. Are. Absolutely. Adorable. For the most part, you aren't dressed any differently than someone who was going to a nice event. That fact that you paired girly tights with your outfit is something everyone can't handle. But it's a perfect little twist. I love it."

And just like, Bebe continued down the hall. Eventually turning the corner to where the restrooms sat. Right before doing so, she gave a little wave at the wrist and a flick of her curls flying behind her shoulders.

I wish more people could be like her. The ones that understand fashion. And can determine gender as something that was non-existent in that world.

* * *

By the time time lunch rolled around, I had only attended three of my classes and I still had two left. I was sitting at a table Tweek and I claimed for ourselves since the sixth grade. Him munching away at whatever his mom packed in his lunch bag. I never ate school lunch. Always deemed it as jail food and wondered exactly what the meals were truly made of.

I thought of possibly inviting Bebe to sit with us, but didn't dare bother to walk across the lunchroom in front of all those people. Plus there was the fact that she was sitting with Clyde Donovan and her friend Wendy Testaburger, who was also with her boyfriend Stan Marsh. At one point Clyde and I were good friends. Not quite like Tweek and I but when we were younger I would often find myself going over to his house after school. Not sure when we broke apart. Possibly when he started dating Bebe in the sixth grade. (Of course, they were together before then, but it wasn't an actual relationship. It was the kind where little kids thought of you being their 'partner' then ignored you for most of the time.)

So instead of doing what I wanted, I watched as Bebe interacted with her boyfriend. The little tactics she would do to get his attention to remain on her instead of straying towards his friend, Stan.

Stan Marsh was someone I was never really keen on. In elementary, his group and mine were often fighting against another. Over the most trivial of things also. During the metrosexual phase in fourth grade, Stan's group was the one that got into it just as much as my group did. But in my opinion, Stan's group wasn't up to par with us. I mean, Kyle Broflovski was the one kid who was on edge during the whole fad. While everyone in my group was game. Not to mention, we had some kickass matching outfits.

Stan and Wendy has been dating on and off since the third grade. How they did so always remained a mystery to me. Eventually they would break up for good. Wendy would begin to date Token Black sometime around sophomore year. They worked out better than when she was with Stan.

My back was to the wall. So I was granted the ability of seeing everything that went on in the lunch room. Keeping my back open would probably be a really stupid choice and I already knew I wouldn't want anything to happen. Especially with the way the day was going. I turned my attention to Tweek who was now done eating, his hazel eyes scanning the room like I was moments before.

"Kenny McCormick was saying some pretty nasty stuff in math."

I raised an eyebrow "Oh?"

"Yeah. Things I really don't feel comfortable saying. Like sexual things… About you."

"I don't care." I stated bluntly. "When isn't Kenny talking about sex?"

It was true. The first thing anyone thought about when Kenny came to mind, was sex. He was never one to come across my mind much. Funny because just a few years after all this, we would become friends. Kind of like how I was with Clyde but maybe a bit more close

"That's true." Tweek trailed off. Gazing to the left of him. "Don't think I've said this yet, but you _do _look really adorable today, C."

I flashed my new braces his way, smiling wide. "Thanks man. Hey, what class do you have next?"

Looking back my way, he stated. "Choir."

That was the one thing Tweek's voice was actually good for; singing. It was the only time his voice didn't trail off at the end of a sentence. His vocal chords being as loud as they were, gave him the advantage of being heard.

Luckily he could carry a tune so it wasn't embarrassing.

I groaned and set my head on the table. "Another class I'll have to brave through alone."

"Hey, maybe Bebe will be in there. I know she'll stick up for you. Bebe doesn't take lightly to people ridiculing others."

I know I talk a lot about Bebe Stevens like she really has an importance to the story line. But around this time I was really hoping she would stick with me like I wanted her to. I would have taken anybody at this point in my life. Not that I wasn't grateful for Tweek. Christ, I really owed him a lot. I was just wanting as much support as I thought I needed.

The bell rung signally lunch was over. I groaned once more. Standing up, I grabbed a hold of Tweek's arm. Then we exited before we got trampled by the huge crowd that was also trying to leave.

As we made our way through the halls to our designated areas, I thought about skipping my class. Going to Tweek's so I could hear him sing sounded like a much better plan. But when I brought the idea up, I was automatically rejected.

"You already skipped first period, C. You've only got two classes left. Then the first day will be over. And you can go home, and do nothing if you really wanted."

I looked at him, my eyes meeting his hazel ones. They were full of compassion. "Can you come home with me?" I asked.

"Think Dad wanted me to help work at the shop today, but I can certainly try if you want?"

Nodding, we continued to make our way down the hall.

* * *

Wendy Testaburger was always one who was for women's rights. The biggest feminist I've met. Ever since elementary school she was that way. Always writing reports about the issues women faced and shoving them in the other children's faces. I kind of always admired her for that. Well, at least until that day.

I only had my last class to get through. Which was Algebra I. I was somewhat advanced in math so I was already taking a high school course which would help me once I reached those years. When I walked in (with only one minute to spare) I noticed there were only five other kids. One of them being Wendy.

As soon as I walked through the doorway, the brunette stood up from her chair in the front row. Eyebrows creased inward and a frown on her mouth.

"Craig Tucker, you've got some nerve."

Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I lowered my head, making my way to a seat somewhere in that back of the room. Not listening to the teacher's protests.

"Don't ignore me, Tucker. Whatever you're doing I take as an insult. The fact that you have the nerve to wear a women's article of clothing is disgusting. Just what the hell are you trying to say?"

"Miss Testaburger!" The teacher exclaimed. "Please sit down."

Sighing she did sit down, but turned my way in her seat. "Gonna explain?"

I shook my head at her. Wendy's soft brown eyes boring into my skull. I couldn't take it. Along with the other stares I was receiving from the kids in the classroom.

"Well just so you know, I don't like it. And I feel like you're trying to say something about my gender's clothing. Men always have to take things away from us."

Those last two statements were the breaking point for me. I was really hoping to make it through this hell of seven hours without backlashing at someone. But Wendy was the one to piss me off more than anyone else.

"Jesus Christ, Wendy!" I yelled. Standing up from my chair like she did when bitching me out. "Who gave women the only right to wear tights? All you people are really unbelievable. There's nothing wrong with my clothes. I'm not wearing anything out of the ordinary. And everything I've heard today has definitely pissed me off. Just give me one thing. Seriously. This certainly won't be the last time. This was just the first step. Clothing shouldn't be categorized

by gender. Open your god damned eyes."

With that I stormed out of the classroom. For the second time in only ten minutes the teacher protested. She was just trying to do her job and Wendy and I were pretty much screwing shit up. I had tears in my eyes. Crying was something I rarely do, but I felt I needed to get my emotions out. So I made my way to the closest restroom I could find. Walking inside, finding an empty stall and locking myself in until the last bell of the day sounded.

At this point I was questioning my actions. If I really wanted to go through with it like I argued moments ago.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Two: Making Enemies.**

One day in the ninth grade I wore this white blouse. It wasn't anything special. A thin material in which you needed an undershirt to wear so nothing was showing. What I did was similar to such, but not by much.

My mom had this sort of sports bra she would wear while she went to her aerobics class. It was basically this wrap she wore around her breasts. Just a plain black. No straps included. Before I went to bed the previous night, I snuck into the laundry room and stole it to bring back to mine. (Sniffing it to make sure it didn't reek of sweat. Actually spraying a bit of my cologne to it.) I put the wrap on that morning followed by the white blouse then immediately threw a jacket on top of that. Hiding the fact that I was wearing the articles.

See my parents, like previously mentioned, didn't agree with what I'd been wearing for the past year. I would often find myself only dressing this way on school days or when I'd sneak away to Tweek's house. So most of the time I had to hide what I was wearing as I left the house to go to school. Often it simply by applying my overlarged jacket I've grown to love. But in some instances it wasn't as easy. Like when I'd wear big, fluffy leg warmers over ankle booties or shorts with tights. (Which was one of my favourites.)

Getting the clothes was one of the hardest things for me. Around this time I didn't have a job yet. Only being about fourteen or so. The issue of having money was one of my biggest problems. Rebecca or as everyone else liked to call her, Red, was another girl who didn't mind my choice in fashion.

Being related to her was probably one of the best things in my favour. She would often give me hand-me-downs of her own or go to second-hand stores; buying simple things for me. Red never spoke to me in public though. At school she'd act like we weren't even related. But outside of the social environment, she would sometimes appear at my house. Bringing over plastic bags filled with whatever she didn't want anymore. I was always grateful for Red. If it wasn't for her, I would have an even harder time doing these tasks myself.

Tweek's mother always drove him and I to school. Living not too far away from each other, they never found a problem picking me up on their way there. That day, as I climbed into the backseat, Tweek turned around from the front to smile largely at me. We were IMing the previous night and I told him all about how I was taking a big risk with today's ensemble. The way he smiled at me was like a signal for letting me know everything was going to be all right. Which I could only hope was true.

As the year went by in eighth grade the taunting slowly died down. Sure there were the occasional verbal abuse I would receive but nothing too heart-wrenching. But freshmen year… That was a whole nother story.

I had to deal with facing a new bunch of students whom hadn't taken witness to my revelation the year before. Most of them not taking lightly to it.

When we rode up to the front entrance of the high school, Tweek and I exited the vehicle. Him automatically taking my hand in his as we walked to the building.

Somehow we were becoming closer. Wasn't quite sure how it was happening; but it was. Constantly I found Tweek holding my hand as we walked down the halls. He would hold me within his arms whenever I cried after school about something some jerk said to me that day. I would receive little kisses placed upon my cheek, or on my bang-covered forehead. Mainly at the most random of instances. I never questioned why he was beginning to do so more. Didn't ever think I needed to. I figured if I was all right with what was happening and didn't once ask him to stop, I shouldn't worry about it.

Our lockers were placed right next to each other. Having our last names so close in the alphabet, we were often next to one another either it be our lockers or the few classes we actually shared. As I opened mine, dropping my messenger bag to ground, I hesitantly unzipped my jacket. Looking around to see if anyone was watching to witness what Craig Tucker was wearing today. Luckily, hardly anyone was around (More than likely most of them being within the cafeteria where a lot of the students hung out before school started.) so I wrapped my jacket up placing it on the top shelf the locker provided, closed the metal contraption and strapped my messenger bag back on my shoulder.

The thin material of the blouse felt strange on the area of skin that wasn't covered by my mom's wrap. I wasn't used to wearing something as light as it was and I was a bit unsure on if I should grab my jacket and put it back on. Tweek must have caught me questioning my motives because after he was done collecting the supplies he needed for first period, his eyes met mine. His free hand wrapping me into a half hug, with a kiss set on my temple.

"You're gonna be fine, C." He whispered in my ear. "Just don't worry about it. You look pretty adorable, all right?"

I nodded even though I really just wanted to curl into a ball right where I was. As soon as the school bell rang, Tweek pulled me along to our class we shared together. I wasn't quite sure what to expect.

* * *

If I were ever to have thought of having an enemy, it would be Wendy Testaburger. The bitch who caused a scene in Algebra I. She was constantly on my case. Even though Bebe, who was probably her closest friend since the third grade, tried to get her to stop bitching at me; it never worked. Wendy was one of those people who were difficult to persuade from what they felt was right. Once she had her mind set on a simple idea, she was sticking to it. And being the hardcore feminist Wendy was, it was often for topics containing the female rights.

I was pretty much convinced Wendy was the only feminist in the entire small town we lived in, so preaching (in my opinion), would be considered useless. On the other hand, telling her otherwise was also useless.

She just so happened to be in our class as well. (Go figure, right?) And I swear, as soon as Tweek and I walked through the doorway, hand-in-hand with Tweek blabbing about whatever he thought was important, the fucking _whole _room grew silent.

We were granted the chance of being in a mixed classroom full of students from all four years. Many of them not quite used to my going against conformity. Wendy Testaburger happened to be the first one to speak aloud.

"Craig Tucker, you have _yet _to amaze me. Just what the hell is this?! What the hell do you think you're wearing today? Yet _another _female article you're taking away from us girls. We don't appreciate it. I speak for every girl in this room. You're belittling us! What message are you trying to state?! It doesn't make any sense!"

Wendy has this thing where whenever she gets enraged, she decides to stand up from her seat. Acting like it makes so much more of a difference.

Lazily, I replied with the middle finger then pulled Tweek along behind me as we made our way to the back of the room. "Fuck off, Wendy."

"Language Mr. Tucker." The teacher intervened.

Another thing I hate is the gender labeling I receive. Tweek is probably the only one who participates in keeping the pronouns neutral. I've tried asking my teachers beforehand, tried reasoning with my parents, but they still use the pronouns for the sex I was given. Tweek is also the only one who's accepted shortening my name to the single letter, C. Another way of giving myself that neutral aspect.

The way one perceives gender is always through sex. Try reasoning with a person to attempt explaining why you feel the way you do and they just don't understand. Often they think it's a phase. (Which goes hand-in-hand with sexuailty as well.) Or they think you're doing this for attention. The only ones who truly understand what you're going through being yourself and others similar to you.

Like I mentioned earlier, my town is pretty small. A small dot on the map of Colorado no one ever paid attention to. So the likelihood of having diversity within it is pretty scarce. Many of the residents not taking lightly to a subject that shouldn't mean a thing.

Although, one of the nice things the teacher actually did for me was place me in the back of the room where I wasn't as easy as a target. So she did have sympathy for me on some level.

I pulled my seat out, quietly sitting down while Tweek did the same in front of me. Wendy was still spewing her bullshit but was doing so in a softer manor. Occasionally, I'd receive a death glare from where she sat all the way across the room. Trying my damnedest to ignore her, but it was kind of difficult when I dealt with this plenty of times in this class.

I never quite understood her reasoning. Even to this day. It just seemed Wendy Testaburger had a personal grudge going out against me and it wouldn't die until she felt justice was served.

Sweat was just pouring out of me. Coating the pits of my thin white blouse. At this rate, I'd be smelling the same way my mom did after she finished a workout. It was only fifteen minutes into the period, and I already wanted to go home. We were learning about the civil war in America. A topic I already knew about and wasn't much in the mood to go over it once again. Instead of jotting down the notes like everyone in class, I leaned back in my seat. Crossing my arms over my covered chest, then closing my eyes; listening to the teacher drone on.

I wish I could say this day of my ninth grade went easy going. But it wasn't anything of the likes. Which I guess I should have expected.

* * *

I was lying on the ground. It was cold and hard against my naked skin. Nothing covered my chest at all, not the white blouse nor the wrap my mother owned. In fact, the wrap was ripped in two lying beside me. I clutched the thin blouse between frail fingers. Staring straight forward at a dull wall as the lights kept flickering slightly. The smell of blood reeked. I needed to get out of here, but in all honestly I didn't want to. Didn't want to walk out and automatically have multiple sets of eyes my way. The time was coming anyway. It was only third period. Another class would be making their way down here soon enough.

I wanted to cry. Wanted to feel the comfort of tears running down my cheeks, land on the floor next to me, to become a part of the grime. But I couldn't even bring myself to do a simple task like that. I'm pathetic; that's all there is to it.

A door opening could be heard against the silence I was consumed by. This was the moment I was waiting for. Some unruly bastard would come to the decision on whether they wanted to help my pathetic ass or not. This person just so happened to be Kenny McCormick.

I've never really associated with him before then. He was one of those individuals that kept quiet for the most part. All I knew about Kenny was that he was still pretty good friends with Stan Marsh. The two of them a part of his four-man group.

Today Kenny wore a simple white t-shirt and acid wash jeans. Blonde hair just grazing his shoulders covered in natural grease. Acne covered the rounds of his cheeks giving them an overall red tint. Baby blue eyes shined down at me, they smiled without his mouth doing the extra work. All I could do was stare back at him. Hoping the plea in my own dark brown eyes was enough of a message for him.

"Well if it isn't Craig Tucker. What the hell happened to you?" His voice was too loud for the silence I was used to. I closed my eyes while her spoke to me then opened them again once the blonde finished.

My fingers gripped tighter on the fabric in hand. Not knowing much about Kenny, I worried about the kind of person he was.

"Cat gotcha' tongue?" He laughed lightly then kneeled down by my face. "You look battered and you're half naked. Couldn't have been anything good, I'm guessin'. C'mon, how bout I help you out…"

I nodded, trying to smile as well but failed in the end.

Kenny's hand touched the small of my back rubbing it softly. I could feel the roughness of his calloused fingers running along my skin. He grabbed my waist rolling me over so I was now lying on my back. Staring at one of the flickering overhead lights. The blonde was trying to pry my fingers of the torn shirt, trying to take my hands in his own so he could pull me up to my feet.

My ribs ached. Pain was strongly on my left side. The movements I was making only made the pain worst. I cried out. My voice cracking and piercing my ear drums. The door was heard opening again. Footsteps followed as they made their way towards Kenny and I. Once in our view I noticed one person being the P.E teacher; the other a student I didn't recognize.

"Jesus Christ, what happened to you, Tucker?" The teacher belted. Normally I was afraid of him. He towered over most students and was built in a strong fashion. Standing next to me he looked like a giant. Which was what I referred to him as most of the time. (Although never to his face, because I was still scared.)

"They haven't said a word, Sir." Kenny replied. He was now attempting to walk me out of the locker room. One arm held around my waist guiding me and giving the support I needed.

My skin was freezing. I looked down to where Kenny's fingers wrapped around my small waist. His skin was so much whiter than mine. Looking like porcelain China next to my caramel coloured skin. I took notice of two small freckles on his knuckles which I became interested in and focused most of my attention to try to take away from the pain.

"He's gonna have to talk sooner or later." The Giant said. Trailing behind me and the blonde. I realized the student wasn't anywhere in sight, but that was the least of my worries.

What The Giant said echoed in my eardrums. 'Talk sooner or later.' I didn't want to say a word about what happened. I wanted to keep the incident to myself. I didn't want trouble and that's exactly what would happen if I came out and told who kicked my ass in the boys' locker room. They would have a personal vendetta against me and my life would become worse than it already is.

Opening my mouth, I gasped then tried to speak. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it. I just… tripped on one of the benches while trying to get dressed." All I could surface was a whisper, but I still got my voice to where it was heard.

"Tripped? Boy, don't go spewing lies. That's unlikely, and besides your fruity little shirt is torn apart. Care to explain that one?"

I couldn't. Didn't even try to. Instead I sighed and set my head on Kenny's shoulder. My cheek was lying on a few strands of his greasy blonde hair and I had to fight the urge to cringe.

"We can worry about it later, Craig. Bet your happy I found you though ain't cha?" I couldn't see it, but I'm pretty sure Kenny was smiling.

So I went ahead and smiled back, even though I'm sure Kenny couldn't see mine as well.

* * *

I didn't tell my parents about the incident. I went home in a simple polo I was given by the school's office covered by my favourite jacket. As soon as I entered the front door, I went straight up to my room. Turning the lock so no one could enter, then stripped myself of my top articles. A full length mirror was on my closet door, as I walked over to it, I noticed purple bruising beginning to form on my light brown ribcage.

I didn't ask for what happened. I was minding my own business, happy to have gotten over the hell known as physical education. I had just slipped on my mother's black wrap and was starting to put on the blouse I adored. My eyes were set on trying to button the piece when a harsh strike was hit at my back. Pushing me down right away. I didn't get a good look at the person who then began kicking at my body as it laid helplessly on the cold, locker room ground. Another, who decided to use their hands instead, grabbed for the clothing on my chest and torn them at first grasp. I cried out as I heard the fabric tear so easily. I was going to have to buy mom another wrap for her workouts.

Not once did I try to protest as the event happened, nor did the others who were down there with us. They pretended it wasn't happening. They acted like they didn't hear my cries as another kick was thrust into my ribs, a soft cracking bouncing off the lockers. What they thought was if they intervened they'd be beat themselves. And that wouldn't be fair in their eyes. So I watched as one-by-one, bodies left the locker room. Ignoring my silent pleas and acting as though it wasn't happening to begin with.

Fingers grabbing my hair right at the scalp was the last deed that would be done. My head left the ground for a spilt second only to meet it once again. My teeth catching my bottom lip in the process, biting down as it hit the tile. Blood spewing into my mouth followed by leaking out slowly.

I can't even bring myself to repeat what they said to me during the whole process. I normally try not to. It's worse than the physically part. Wasn't the phrase: "Stick and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me."? Whoever came up with that saying was a straight laced bullshitter. Words were what hurt the most. They were far worse than any other damage done to me.

Tweek called me that night. Multiple times. But I never answered. I couldn't bring myself to do so. I didn't even talk to him before I left school early when the nurse said I could go home. I knew Tweek was worried about me and I was only feeding the emotion. But I needed time to myself. Time to relive the incident over and over again. Until I fell asleep crying fresh tears onto my pillow.


	4. Chapter 4

**I originally meant for this to be updated on Valentine's Day since I felt the theme matched but I got busy within the last few weeks and I apologise for the delay.**

* * *

**Chapter Three: Meant for One Another.**

Valentine's Day was a holiday I never enjoyed; especially during my high school years. Tweek and I made the decision of skipping school that day (since it just so happened to land on a Friday) and we hung out at his house. My parents, for the most part, thought I was going to school but instead of the usual Mrs. Tweak coming to pick me up, I was faced with having to walk over to the Tweak residence myself. It wasn't anything too troubling, just a block and a half in which I had to endure the cold winter weather.

I dressed up in a solid, black button up shirt and lavender coloured jeans. My jacket was zipped all the way up and I actually wrapped a blanket I stole from the house around my figure. A blue chullo hat I used to wear all the time in elementary school was covering my freshly washed hair; an attempt to not get sick from the weather. I was counting my steps to see how many it would take to reach the blonde's house. A simple distraction so I wouldn't focus as much on the cold.

By the time I reached it, I was practically running towards the front door and knocking obnoxiously until Tweek opened it for me. I was welcomed by the blonde with a smile of his face and his untamed hair pulled away from his face in a messy ponytail. I always liked when Tweek pulled back his hair, it gave me more of a chance to actually notice the features on his face. Like usual, I was entranced by the colour of his eyes. They were such a soft hazel they rode on the edge of being between grey and a translucent olive green. Jealousy could be an emotion I felt for people who have coloured eyes. It'll probably be something I mention on multiple occasions. Fact of the matter was: I truly despise my brown hues.

I dropped the blanket that was wrapped around my body right in the doorway, then grabbed for Tweek to give him a hug. I was glad I didn't have to encounter Valentine's Day by myself and I was even gladder it was Tweek of all people.

We met in grade school, the two of us placed in the same class in the third grade. Even though I was already friends with Clyde at this time, we were only somewhat mutual. I only found myself hanging out with him during school and never after or on the weekends. I gravitated towards Tweek because he kept to himself, and I wanted to know _why. _Why out of all the kids in our class, he chose to be alone and hardly interact with the others.

When he was called on to answer a question in class, often his voice was too loud for the quietness that would overpower when a lecture took place. I liked the sound of it... how it sliced through the air like a blade. I liked the way he played with his hair more than usual when he spoke. The way his fingers interlaced the soft blonde locks and many times got stuck. I noticed how his feet didn't touch the ground when he sat at his desk. Most of the time you could see those two legs swinging back and forth in class. Sometimes, in the corner of my eye, I would watch as frail fingers tapped the top of his desk when they weren't in his hair. He was constantly moving and I couldn't understand why.

It was one day in October during recess when I grew the balls to talk to him. After watching his small tactics for a few months now, I decided I should at least try to strike up a conversation. Little kids could talk about anything to one another. They could ask rude questions; being unaware that it wasn't all right to do so. They could talk about any childish topic from television to video games and every kid knew what you were talking about.

And yet I couldn't find anything to talk to Tweek about. I walked right up to him as he sat on a bench a ways from the playground equipment. I took the action of sitting on the other end of the bench and just watched the other children played. It wouldn't be until a few minutes before recess was over that I finally spoke to him.

"Why are you so alone?"

Tweek looked my way and the emotion in his eyes showed he was shocked I actually talked to him. I watched as I could practically see the wheels turning in his head, trying to find the right answer. When he opened his mouth quite largely, the whistle blew. Signally it was time for us to line up to go back inside the school building. Tweek stood up and I followed his actions. Honestly, I was worried he would avoid my question and I would be screwed from ever talking to Tweek again. But as we began walking to the line-up station (side-by-side), the small blonde turned his head in my direction. His soft hazel eyes not quiet looking my way.

"I don't think anyone understands me. And I'd rather associate with someone who does than someone who doesn't."

At nine, I never encountered someone my same age who spoke in a way Tweek did. His too loud voice had a mysterious vibe to it. It lingered a bit after he spoke a single sentence and in all, he seemed mature to me.

I nodded in agreement even though I wasn't getting what he said, and we continued to walk together in silence.

The two of us would only make small talk until we reached the end of the school year in third grade. I remember it being a Tuesday in June. The weather was beginning to finally warm up that year which meant kids were starting to wear shorts and tank tops. Once again it was during a session of recess when I spoke to Tweek. He was sitting on his usual bench away from everyone else. I approached it and instead of sitting beside him, I stood right in his view point. Hands on my hips with my dark chocolate eyes glaring down on the blonde.

"Hi Craig."

My heart was beating at an unnatural speed. It felt like it could burst through my chest at any moment. I was nervous and I was trying my damnedest to hide it.

"Do you wanna come over to my house after school?" It was stupid to have asked such a thing when I hardly knew the kid, but I was taking a chance and that's all that mattered.

Tweek squinted my way. His hand moving to rest above his eyes to try to hide the sun. "I guess…" His voice lingered more than usual. The possibility of me pushing him into it went through my mind.

But I smiled anyways. "Awesome. We can walk home together. I don't think my house is that far. I pretty much walk every day after school anyways."

That one asking Tweek to come over would soon turn to an every other day occurrence. Tweek's mom absolutely adored me and had no problem with her son hanging out with me. It probably had to do with the fact that he was finally out her hair for a while.

I discovered all the moving around was due to Tweek having ADHD and his mother refused to put him on medication at such a young age. Over the years he would learn to control it and only fidgeted with his hair now. I noticed on the left side of his jawline, he had a small freckle. I noticed during the winter his hazel eyes turned more grey than green. And during the summer multiple freckles surfaced across his cheeks. Tweek was left handed and an excellent singer. Whenever he spoke too fast, he always got the hiccups.

Over time I took note of every small detail I could and the only thing I could gather about him was he never refused to leave my side. Especially when I told Tweek about how I truly felt. I wasn't rejected by him. The blonde pulled me into a tight hug right after I spilled about everything and whispered in my ear words I'd never forget.

"I love you for you, C."

* * *

"I don't know, I'm stuck between _Mulan _and _The Little Mermaid. _Both princesses are pretty great. I love Mulan for going to war even though she was a women and kicking ass as she did so. But Ariel… She's a fucking mermaid _and _she gave up her beautiful singing voice for legs. Ugh, I don't know I don't know! You choose Tweek." I covered my eyes with my hands and fell back to lie down on Tweek's bed.

At the moment, we were trying to decide on a movie to watch. Tweek owned just about every _Disney _movie that was out by now and gave me the difficult choice of choosing.

We spent most of the day lounging around in his room. It didn't even feel like Valentine's Day and I was glad for that. The whole reason behind the holiday always pissed me off. I never understood why the love for your partner needed to be forced and exaggerated. You were supposed to show affection, the way you felt, whenever you thought it was right. Always at an unexpected moment. I thought the idea of making a holiday to force society to do so was sick. Almost a sign that we were doing something wrong. I told myself if I ever got in a relationship, the first establishment would be that we wouldn't celebrate this holiday. Luckily for me, the partner I was involved with now whole-heartedly agreed.

"How about _The Little Mermaid _then? I was always fan of the second one myself but the first will work."

"The sequel?!" I gasped, uncovering my eyes. "Are you stupid, Tweek? Everyone knows the original is always the best. I can't believe such blasphemy came from your mouth."

Tweek turned back to look at me from where he sat on the floor in front of his television. "Really."

It wasn't much of a question… more like a sarcastic statement which I decided not to reply to. Instead I waved my hand at the blonde, ushering to just put the movie in.

Along with owning every _Disney _movie, more than most were a VHS. Tweek wasn't very fond of the newest technology to come out. Very rarely did I witness him purchasing a DVD. It had to have been one hell of a movie for him to do that.

Mrs. and Mr. Tweak came home a few hours ago. You could tell because the smell of beautifully brewed coffee wavered through the air vents. They owned a coffee shop downtown which seemed to be what the couple enjoyed the most. Often Mr. Tweak would create metaphors most of the time including coffee. I usually tried to avoid him because of this, not that he wasn't a nice guy or anything.

After Tweek pushed the VHS in and got it all rewound and whatnot, he came to sit next to me on his bed. I immediately wrapped my arms around him pulling the small blonde to lie on top of me. I breathed in his scent, which ironically enough wasn't coffee related. But instead it was a soft cinnamon spice mixed with generic soap. The strands of his hair tickled my nose as they brushed up against my face. Tweek moved around a bit in my arms until he was hovering over me and looking straight on.

"Have I complimented you today yet?" For once his voice wasn't too loud for the situation. I thought about the question then shook my head. "My bad… Well, C, you look absolutely dashing."

Heat was quickly spreading to my cheeks, I could just feel it. Tweek had a thing where he complimented me at least once a day, if not more. He thought it would help boost my confidence. I guess it did help considering where I'm am now.

I wanted to reply with a 'thank you' like I usually did, but at that moment, the words stopped right in my throat. I couldn't find it within myself to, especially with the way Tweek was looking at me. I should have saw it coming. I should have took all the small touches and non-important kisses I was receiving from Tweek as a sign. That possibly there was more than a platonic feeling coming from him. I was oblivious and only had myself to blame for not predicating what would happen next.

* * *

"I'm so sorry, Omigod. I didn't mean to do that!"

"No… I should have guessed you didn't feel the same way."

"No wait, wait, wait, I never said that! I'm sorry… you just took me by surprise is all. Here, do it again."

Tweek rolled his eyes. I thought he wasn't going to but he always had a way of surprising me. Within seconds, soft lips touched mine like they did just seconds before, only this time I didn't push Tweek away. This would be my first kiss, on a cliché day like this one. I didn't know what the hell I was doing but I figured neither did Tweek and we would figure it out together.

After a few seconds, I pulled away. Refusing to open my eyes. I was afraid of opening them knowing his face would be inches away from mine. I didn't want to face the confrontation which I would more than likely turn to an awkward situation.

"I think… I'm falling for you C."

The words ringed in my eardrums on repeat. Not a single syllable made sense. They sounded foreign aimed towards me and even more foreign coming from Tweek's mouth.

The fact that my closest friend had feelings for me was unbelievable. The small blonde who spoke too loud with a voice that didn't fit his figure liked someone like _me_: An individual who couldn't decide what the fuck they were and was considered the freak of the town.

When I reopened my eyes, Tweek was indeed staring at me, with a stupid smile on his face, and I couldn't help but smile back; largely flashing my braces his way.

"On Valentine's Day of all days, pretty ironic hmm?"

"I swear to god if you planned that Tweek…"

He threw his head back and laughed loudly, "I would never."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Four: Important Individuals.**

I hate to admit it but my father absolutely hated my choice. At one point he stopped talking to me and refused to accept my existence. He tried to get my mother and younger sister to follow suit but they had a bit more respect than he did.

I notice I've yet to mention my younger sister and perhaps this would be a great time to do so. Ruby Tucker was born when I was four and we look nothing alike. She took the appearance of our father with matching strawberry blonde hair and silver blue eyes. She had a small turned up nose and her cheeks always had a small rose tint. Since the age of around five, Ruby was always the tallest of her class, which was a trait she got from her father and one she always cursed. We never had the best relationship, but it was better that way.

I only say this because… I don't want to be a negative influence on her. I don't want Ruby to rebel against society and have the whole town treat her the way I was. I thought the less relationship we had the smaller the possibility of Ruby knowing exactly what was going on with me. The struggle I had of becoming myself I needed to discover on my own and I was already pushing enough of it onto Tweek. I didn't need my younger sister to be apart of it either.

When Ruby was first born, I immediately envied her. It was mainly because she looked like the man who was our father. Whereas I had no similarities. The reason behind this was that Thomas Tucker wasn't my biological father. Since being born, my actual father had never been a part of my life; he bailed out on my mother and I. From the small things I've heard, he was a complete no life who loved drugs more than anything. But most importantly he was Peruvian, which meant I was half the ethnicity. I was a lighter shade of brown than most but dark enough that it could be noticed when I was standing next to a crowd of Caucasians. Since I never knew my real father, I had no problem accepting Thomas to replace him and from what I could gather he felt the same. At least - until finding out about my true gender.

In my opinion, it was easier for him to disown me. Having us not be related by blood meant I really didn't need to be an importance in his life. So I guess thirteen years meant nothing to him.

When I returned home after staying with Tweek, Thomas had come home from a long day at work just a few hours ago and was now sitting in a recliner chair in the living room. The back of the chair was facing the doorway to the front door and when I came walking in, he asked who the hell I was. Mom and Ruby were out at the grocery store buying food for dinner (I later came to find out) which meant I was home alone with him.

As I walked to the living room from the front hallway, my heartbeat raced and sweat was quickly building up on my back. My father didn't witness what I was wearing when I first left for school because he had already left for work. But I knew the outcome wasn't going to be a good one - thinking back to when I was declined in the fourth grade.

"It's just me." I said once I was in his view point.

In his left hand was the television remote and the other held a can for some off-brand beer. I came to the conclusion that he'd been drinking for a while now and things were not about to be sunshine and joy.

As soon as a commercial began showing on the television was when he finally took a first glance at me. His silver blue eyes were half-opened for a second then bulged out at the sight of the tights covering my legs.

Still to this day I can't remember how exactly it happened, but I sure as hell know that within seconds I was knocked down to the ground with my father standing over me.

"The fuck you wearin'?"

I had my breath taken right out of me and I was still trying to catch it as he nudged me with the tip of his foot. When I still wasn't saying anything, my father bent over to grab me by the suspenders I wore and brought me to my feet.

His breath reeked of alcohol as it blew into my nostrils. "You gon' say somethin'?"

I couldn't or... more like I was afraid to. I knew that if I tried to explain to him why I was dressed the way I was, he wouldn't understand a word I was getting at. So instead I just lowered my eyes to where eye contact didn't pertain. This seemed to piss him off even more because in a short moment, my back slammed against the wall behind me. Pain shot down my spine. I was forced once more to look in the direction of my father's face

"You think you can go round dressin' like a faggot? I don't like that shit one bit, Craig and I thought I told you damned well before, no son of mine was gon' be a fag."

Each time he said That Word a blade stabbed me in the chest. Tears wanted to escape from my eyes but I knew better than to cry in front of my father.

"You're nothing but a damned disappointment."

I watched as the hand that wasn't holding me against the wall came forward, not hesitantly a bit as it came back down full speed to slap me hard in the cheek. the strike stung. A sensation covering the skin of that section. Never before has my father laid his hands on me unless it was a pat on the head or on the shoulder. Sort of like a 'good job' statement. Time seemed to slow down after it happened and a few seconds felt more like minutes. My brown eyes went up to look Thomas in the face but they immediately lowered back down as I noticed his hand go up once more.

This time his hand balled up as it grabbed my bangs, pulling them upward to force my head back with it. Being shorter than my father meant I had quite a ways that my head had to be bent back in order for me to look at him which was what he was trying to do. Forcing me to stare him in the silver-blue of his irises. Tears were now building up in my eyes and there was no way I could stop them now. As small slivers ran down my face, Thomas only grew angrier.

"Goddamn it, just look at you. Fuckin' pathetic." He leaned down a bit to get closer to my face. "Now lissen to me. If I catch you dressin' like a damn pansy again so help me Craig, I'm gon' ki-"

The front door opened swiftly interrupting him. My little sister came running through holding a plastic bag full of goods. Thomas and I just froze; not at all moving an inch. When Ruby caught sight of the way her father was gripping me, she ran back out the house calling for mom.

When she came back, Ruby was holding mom's hand and pulling her behind. My mother was always a beautiful women in my eyes. She had super blonde hair which came down a little past her shoulders and deep blue eyes the colour of the ocean. If you looked real close into them you could sometimes see specs of a light violet. She was taller than me but only by a few inches and she was very petite, especially in the bust. As soon as Thomas saw his wife walk in with Ruby, I was let go by the bangs… but it was already too late.

"Thomas what the hell are you doing?!"

"Laura, just look at the shit your son is wearin'."

I slid down the wall until in a sitting position. Curling up on myself and setting my head on my knees. Someone began to approach me and it turned out to be my sister.

Like I mentioned before Ruby and I never had a close relationship but that didn't mean she doesn't care about me. I didn't lift my head to look up at her, I didn't want to. But I sensed Ruby crouched down to get to my level and I felt a hand touch the top of my head.

"You're okay, Craig. I have no idea what happened but it's over now. Guess you should be glad Mom and I came home when we did."

It was true. If they hadn't returned home when they did, I could have ended up worse. Both my parents were still arguing. My mother's voice rising louder than my father's. Not very often did they fight but when they did, Laura's tempting always showed. She usually got hot within seconds and once she did she never backed down until she won the argument. Which was probably how this one was going to play out.

Ruby was still rubbing my head during it all and refused to leave her spot. I wanted to get out of there as quickly as I could. I wanted to run upstairs to my room, locking the door and stay in there for the rest of the night. Yet… I couldn't move an inch. So instead I stayed in my balled up position with my sister right beside me. My parents wouldn't die down for another hour but not once did they bring me back into it. Laura insisted I had enough bullshit for the night and I could only agree.

* * *

My second day of eighth grade wasn't any better than the first and in fact it may have been worse. I've already mentioned physical violence I received in the ninth grade and a small bit my father gave to me, but the first time it really took effect was on my second day.

One kid I forgot to introduce goes by the name of Eric Cartman. He's probably the meanest individual I've met. Always making rude remarks about everyone and every_thing_. For one point in his life, he hung out with Stan Marsh (adding yet another person to his group) but sometime during the beginning of junior high Stan and the rest of them decided they didn't want to be friends with Eric anymore.

To add effect of being mean, he _looked _mean. Everytime I saw Eric he always had a nasty look on his face. He was overweight for his height and constantly wore a red hoodie which from time-to-time would be dirty with food stains. When walking through the hallways of school, often Eric would be the person pushing and knocking over others so they'd get out of his way. Rude words and slanders would spill from his lips, but he didn't give a shit if he hurt anyone's feelings.

I was walking through the halls while fourth period was going on. I had asked the teacher for a pass to the restroom but I was pretty much skipping. My fourth period class was one I didn't exactly need, an art class, and in all honestly I was no artist. Having brought no materials to the class meant it was easier to skip and hang wherever I wanted. But first - I really did need to use the restroom.

I decided upon using the restroom that was located in the back of the school near the gym. This was the one that students rarely used because most of the time only the kids that were in P.E during the time used them. Later in life I began to refuse to use public restrooms if a unisex one wasn't an option. I didn't need to feel the uncomfortableness I would receive if I went into either one. But during this time, I still used the boys'.

I walked into the restroom and chose to use a stall instead of the urinal. As I went to decide which I stall I wanted to enter, I found out I wasn't alone. Somebody else was already in there. Most of the time if that were the case, I would exit right away, but I _really _needed to piss and I didn't have time to go across the school to find another restroom.

"Ayy, get out, I'm takin' a shit in here!"

The voice unmistakingly belonged to Eric Cartman and I cringed at the sound of it. Ignoring his statement I continued to make my way to a stall. Pulling down the jeans I wore and quickly going pee, I didn't even flush after I was finished. I wanted to get out as fast as I could. But I stopped when Eric started to speak again.

"Craig, that's you isn't it? Jesus, I can tell just by those pansy-ass boots you're wearing. What the hell are you thinking by the way? Dressing like a girl… you're hilarious you know that? I always viewed you as being this tough ass punk but I guess you're just a fucking queer." I heard him laughing loudly. I wanted to run like hell, forget about washing my hands (which would be disgusting) and just get away from him. As I turned toward the exit, the toilet flushed and the stall opened to reveal none other than Eric.

He was dressed in his usual jacket with the zipper undone to show a shirt advertising some shoe brand. His light brown eyes gleamed with deviance as he walked his way over to where I was by the sinks.

Nausea was overcoming my senses. I _knew _something bad was about to happen… I just couldn't tell what.

* * *

"If you tell anyone that I did this to you, more of it will come, Tucker. I wouldn't fuck with me." Eric was standing over me as my body lied on the ground, my stomach face down. "I don't wanna see a little cock-sucker like yourself crossing my path again. Makes me sick to my stomach just looking at you. You deserve worst honestly. I just went easy on you."

And he left. I listened to the sound of his sneakers squeaking against the tile as he walked away. I continued to lie on the grimy floor. Clutching the part of my stomach where I was punched numerous times. No doubt a bruise would form, a nasty one at that. Other than that, hardly any damage would show, but I sure as hell would be in some pain for the next couple of days.

Finally deciding to leave, I got up and started walking out towards the door that was just beyond the school's gym. It lead to the track and field and I thought about hanging out there until my lunch period which was right after fifth. Back in the sixth grade I discovered you could easily leave the school building by going out these doors and if you left a slip on paper, one that was thick enough, in the latch of the door, it gave access to getting back inside without being locked out. Tweek and I did this so many times throughout the years at junior years. Although in the eighth grade I often found myself doing it alone due to us not having as many classes together and also because I normally left when something bad happened to myself.

Like mentioned when the incident of the white blouse, I didn't tell Tweek about this one. I didn't need him worrying about me and I definitely didn't need him talking to a counselor or someone about it. Actually… I don't think I've ever mentioned this incident to anyone. Being the first it was more difficult to speak about.

Luckily I didn't get rid of the pass my fourth period teacher gave me and I was able to fold it up real small and slid it into the latch of the door. The air outside was pretty warm, with it still being summer and all. I gripped the zipper on the jacket I was wearing, took it off and I tied it around my waist. I was never the best at dressing for the weather. For this case, I was wearing a grey long sleeve v- neck underneath my jacket and black jeans. After the event that occurred the night before, I was trying to not dress in a way that would upset my father and I figured these weren't offensive.(Especially since this was the shit I wore before then.)

Whenever Tweek and I skipped class, our favourite place to chill was underneath the bleachers. It gave enough privacy that nobody bothered you and it was also where the kids hung out when they weren't participating in the P.E activities assigned outdoors. So whenever someone saw another hanging down there, they usually ignored them. Which always worked in our favour.

A class wasn't outside at the moment so I was all alone. Not having a cell phone during this time in my life, it was difficult to know what time was and even more difficult to know when a period was over. Most of the time, I came out when another class was so it was easy to tell when to go back in. I only hoped one would come out for fifth period.

* * *

"Hey wake up." Something nudged me in my side. I rolled over to be on my back instead of my stomach. I wasn't sleeping, I was just resting my eyes for a bit. When I opened them, a familiar figure was standing over me.

"Everyone is going inside and if I remembered correctly, you had the same lunch period I did. Wouldn't wanna miss that, would 'ya?"

"I wasn't sleeping, Kenny." I exclaimed.

"Keep telling yourself that."

And with that, Kenny left. I watched as he began walking towards the door with my slip of paper still stuck in it. He waited holding it open for me which I took as my cue to get up. My body ached as I got to my feet. I'd been laying in the same position longer than I expected.

When I finally reached the door and entered along-side the blonde, we continued to walk together but he didn't say another word to me. The silence was provoking. The need to say something - anything - rode on the tip of my tongue even though I had no idea what I wanted to say. It didn't seem to bother Kenny any. I noticed as he walked beside me, he seemed almost oblivious to the lack of speaking. The fact that I never spoke to Kenny before hand had a lot to do with it. He mainly stuck to his group consisting of Stan Marsh and he liked to keep it that way.

Rumours were always flying about Kenny McCormick. Since the young age of at least eight, Kenny's language was very provocative and obscene. He knew more about sex before any of the others had, and there was clearly a reason for it. Kenny was someone who had a voice and liked to use it whenever he wanted. (Which at this time was kind of ironic because he wasn't speaking a word.) Most of the time during classes, you could the blonde chatting to whoever he was near and it was practically about anything. Although mainly about sex.

In the sixth grade I remember the kids buzzing around about how a certain blonde fucked an eighth grader and it all went downhill from there. Eventually the rumours would only become more obscene than the last and the thing that was the cherry on top was Kenny never stated if they were true or not. I think it was because he didn't care. He knew the truth and that's all that mattered. I wish I had that kind of attitude sometimes. That I paid no attention to what the others said about me and I left the whole issue alone. My problem was that I wanted people to get it right. I wanted them to know exactly what I was going for and not mistake it for something else. Which most of the time was the case. If I were like how Kenny is, then I would have the worst things said about me and no one to stop the talk. It was a blessing and a curse to want to be like him. I discovered that long ago.

By the time we reached the lunch room, I immediately noticed Tweek in our usual spot. I made a beeline for the table, dodging the multiple kids who were holding trays in their hands. Tweek wasn't eating when I got close enough to see him fully. He had a pen in his hand and was writing away on a piece of paper. I asked what he was doing and the blonde twitched, looking up from the paper at me with his hazel eyes wide.

"Oh! C.. hey. I'm just writing something. No big deal."

He folded the paper into fourths then bent over to put it in the bag he had lying on the ground beside him. Tweek had the tendency to be secretive about some of the things he was doing. I never took it to heart. I've known him long enough to know how he reacts to others, and sharing personal information was something he had a hard time doing.

I sat down in my seat so I could watch students interact among each other. I watched as Bebe Stevens paid most of her attention to Clyde instead of her best friend who was without her boyfriend that day. The blonde who I walked into lunch with was sitting by himself a few tables away from where Bebe sat, and I could only wonder why. Kenny pretty much interacted with everyone. Goes back to when I said how he talks about practically anything to anyone. He wasn't eating much, in fact, it looked as though he was eating from a packed lunch but what made me question that was I didn't notice one in his hand when we were together. It struck me as odd all around.

"I skipped fourth and fifth today." I exclaimed turning towards Tweek.

Disappointment spread over his face. "Yeah, and why was that?"

I shrugged. I honestly didn't have a good enough reason as to why I skipped other than that I wanted to. I could hear him sigh, and I turned my attention back to the lunchroom.

My cousin Red had this lunch period as well. She sat with a bunch of girls I remembered from grade school. A few of them were in my classes, actually a lot of them were. She was laughing about something Patty Nelson said. Her deep red hair flung back and her face scrunched up. I loved the way her nose turned upwards, the way only one eye closed. Red was a very pretty girl, not as pretty as, let's say, Bebe, but my cousin definitely had some striking features.

She gained the nickname Red because of the colour of her hair. It was such a deep hue I'd never seen anything like it before.. It always reminded me of a maraschino cherry. (Which while I'm thinking of it, I thought Cherry would have been a more appropriate nickname for her, but our family wasn't very original.) It was always kept at a long length - specifically her mid-back - and it was keep in good condition. Red's eyes, she no doubt got from her father's side of the family. He was related to Thomas and all three of them had the same silver-blue eyes. Underneath her left eye, the one she closed whenever she laughed, was a mole that was pretty noticeable. I liked to say it was her best feature. Plenty would argue it was her hair but I liked to look beyond that.

The girl she was conversing with was Patty Nelson. Once in the third grade, Eric had a huge crush her but it never went anywhere. It died down a few days after. Patty was pretty bland. I hardly knew a thing about her. And even her looks were bland. Her jet, black hair she kept the same length for the whole time I've known her. Cut right at her chin. Every once in a while, she'd place a cute bow atop her head but that was about as much as accessories went. Patty's eyes were about the same colour as mine only not as dark. She ranked in at about 4'11 and all I've ever seen her dress in are skirts with plain tee shirts. I couldn't say I liked Patty nor did I dislike her. I remember speaking to her once when I was over at my cousins house and she just so happened to be there as well.

This was some time during the summer between sixth and seventh grade. I went over to Red's house because I wanted to help her mother make a present for mine. It was a simple scrapbook we were creating nothing special. (In fact, my mother ended up ditching it in the garbage later in the year.) I had to use the restroom which was located past Red's room and on my way there, I ran into Patty. She bumped her shoulder against mine as I fit through the doorway. Patty apologized, continued to walk then I heard her call out a ways down the hall. When I turned back I saw she stopped to face me, a confused look plastered on her face.

"You and Red are related?" She asked.

"Something like that."

"Y'guys look nothing alike…"

I frowned at the statement. There were plenty of relatives that didn't look similar. "I don't look like anyone in my family here."

Patty began to walk back towards the restroom with a small bounce in her step. "Can't be true."

"But it is."

"Yeah? And why's that?"

"I take after my father."

"Then you obviously look like someone, Craig."

"And yet, I stated I look like none of my family _here. _If you had listened closely you would have noticed that."

Patty huffed loudly. "Whatever." She began to head back to Red's bedroom. The shuffling of her feet among the carpet echoed throughout the hallway. I simply shrugged off the noirette then went back to my main intention. Patty wouldn't show up again in my life. All together she's a pretty unimportant person… except towards Red.

When I paid my attention back to Tweek, he had gone back to writing whatever was working on. He didn't seem to notice I was watching him. He was too engrossed with it so I took the chance of giving a small glance at his paper. Tweek's handwriting was one that always bothered me. Each letter went up and down in a word and it was in such a large print that took up a lot of a line. It looked like scribbles to me but I was able to pick up a few words even though they didn't make much sense out of context. From what I could gather, it was a letter… to whom, was another mystery I was curious about.

"You're staring at me… how come you came in with Kenny McCormick today?" Tweek looked up. Although, his gaze avoided mine.

"Let me know it was time to go in."

"Well that was nice of him."

I nodded. "Yeah." Glancing back at the lone blonde, it struck curiosity once more. "Hey, has he always sat alone at lunch?"

Tweek turned his attention to the blonde who was no longer eating at this point. "Not sure. I don't pay much attention to him, and I thought you didn't either."

That bothered me. He was right. I never cared for Kenny before so why was I now?

"I don't. Sorry."

"No need to apologize."

Humming to myself, I leaned back in my chair. Crossing my arms over my chest and not saying a word for the rest of the lunch period.

* * *

Kenny wouldn't appear in my life again until ninth grade when he helped me out the locker room. After that he would show up more and more. I'm not sure why he decided to become a part of my life but it wouldn't be for a few more years where we really got things going.


	6. Chapter 6

_**How long has it been since I've updated this? Oops.**_

* * *

**Chapter Five: Recurring Battles.**

The first time my braces caught the bottom of Tweek's lip, I yelped and pulled away to notice the stream of blood already beginning to surface from the cut. We were only fifteen and in our freshmen year of high school, sitting outside of Tweek's house after school. I ran my tongue over the metal in my mouth, letting out a soft groan then covered my face with my hands. Overall, I was embarrassed and I didn't even want to _look _in Tweek's direction. But a few moments later, I felt his hands cup over my own in attempt to pull them away.

"It's fine, C."

Pulling away from his grasp, I groaned once again and fell backwards onto the grass patch we sat on. With the sun beaming right in my eyes, I placed an arm over them to block it out muttering to myself about how much I hated my braces and couldn't wait to get them removed. That wouldn't be until my junior year of high school. Originally they were supposed to come off the year prior but my parents missed the appointment and never got back to it until months later. I cursed them for that. Always tried to convince my mother to make the call to the dentist, but she always said she would – then never follow suit.

"Can we go inside?" I asked.

I heard a 'thump' next to me, then slightly lowered my arm to see Tweek laying down beside me. The blood on his bottom lip was dry now, and just looking at it bothered me. So I scooted a little bit closer to the blonde, then stuck my tongue out to lick the substance off. I could tell by the way he twitched against the grass, he was slightly uncomfortable and I couldn't help but laugh as I caught the rest of his bottom lip between my own.

Looking back at it now, I'm sure if his parents were to casually glance out their front window and witness the two us laying in the grass in mid-kiss, there would be some kind of conflict. But luckily, both his mother and father were at the coffee shop at the time, so we didn't have to worry about a thing.

That is until Stan Marsh and girlfriend just so happened to walk by on the sidewalk.

His arm was wrapped around her waist and Wendy had her hand in the back pocket of Stan's jeans. I think I pulled away and sat up the second I noticed the two walking our way, and when I took sight of them, I let out a laugh, then covered my mouth to somewhat muffle it. I don't know why I found it as funny as I did, but it may have had to do with the fact Tweek and I were almost caught kissing by our classmates.

By the time, they were crossing in front of the Tweak residence, Wendy Testaburger held her glance on me the whole time. Her brown eyes never leaving my sight, and never leaving my article of clothes.

I thought I was dressed pretty casual – high waisted jeans and a button-up I received from my cousin – and I was pretty sure Wendy noticed me in class today as well, so the fact that she was staring at me the way she was, with utter disgust plastered to her face, I rolled my eyes then gave her the middle finger… which resulted in the couple to stop mid-step and Wendy to call to us:

"What the hell was that for, Tucker?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know – for being a bitch?"

"Maybe I wouldn't have to be such a bitch, if you conformed to your own gender roles."

"Fuck you."

Wendy was stepping on the grass now, no longer holding onto her boyfriend, who stayed behind. There was a slight stomp in her force, the grass underneath her platinum coloured flats, leaving a small trace of a footprint left.

"How many times do I have to remind you," She began. "Before I get it through your fucking head? You're taking away from us females, _Craig. _You have no right."

"You give me the same speech, Wendy. When's that going to change?" I stood up and crossed my arms over my chest. "Day in and day out, I have to endure your _bitching _about women's rights and gender roles. Maybe if you actually listened to my situation, you may understand. But you're too straight laced to even have the common courtesy to do that. So fuck you."

My head hurt. Due to the yelling, but I also blamed it on the heat, because Tweek and I had been outdoors for a while now, and underneath the sun, that I wasn't completely used to it. So I glanced down to Tweek, looking him right in the green of his eyes, then I turned my back to Wendy and the others and started my way to Tweek's house. I wasn't even sure if he was following me – not even sure that I _cared – _but I left the front door opened anyways, then ran upstairs to the bathroom.

* * *

It was the following week after the incident in the locker room, and I dreaded going back to third period. I didn't want to step foot into that space, didn't want to be surrounded by the same kids who refused to help me or the walls that listened to my cries and echoed the sounds. The moment my foot stepped on the tile of the room, my heartbeat started to run at a faster pace. My breath caught within my throat, and my eyes felt a tinge of tears hit the surface. Why did I still have to continue this course? Why couldn't the teacher have somehow tweaked the situation so I wouldn't be put up for being beat once again? I bit my bottom lip then continued to walk to the back where my locker resided, and I mentally prayed I wouldn't be fucked with today.

To my advantage, I wore my usual blue jacket I seemed to love so much, with a plain black t-shirt I stole from my father a while ago. My jeans could pass for either gender and I wore some tennis shoes I found in the back of my closet not too long ago that I used to wear all the time in the seventh grade. I clung onto the strap of my messenger bag, making it seem like it was the only barrier I had, and when I turned the corner to where my locker was, I cringed at the sight of boy who smashed my face into the tile. I still had the sore on my bottom lip from where I bit the hell out of it. I tried covering it up with some nude lipstick I found that belongs to my mother, but as the day progressed, it would fade and the sore would became more noticeable.

He waved to me. He fucking waved to me, and at that moment, I felt like vomiting all over the floor. But I didn't, instead I held on tighter to my messenger bag and pushed past him to get to my locker.

There was something on the floor that caught my attention, and I froze to stare at it. On a single tile, there was a smudge of blood smeared across it, and that was the moment I dropped my bag and hunched over to vomit all over said tile.

Some of the other boys in the room yelled in disgust as the substance splattered against the ground. Some traces of hit it my sneakers, and even bounced up to sprinkle onto my jeans. My throat burned the second time a smaller amount of the substance came out, and afterwards I was coughing and spitting just to get the taste out of my mouth.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to curl up on myself and cry and not have to worry about anything else. But I couldn't even do that, because the moment I stood up straighter and ran my hands over the front my jacket, I was being pushed into the lockers, with hands on both shoulders, making hard to resist. Right in front of me was the same boy who beat the fuck out of me the last the time. I squinted my eyes in attempt to not look at them but one of the hands on my shoulders left and went to grab me by the bangs, forcing my head upwards in his direction and I reopened my eyes his way.

The look on his face I can only express as disgust yet at the same time glee, like he was proud to have me in such a state of helplessness. A sharp pain spread throughout my bottom lip almost as though that part of my body remembered what it had endured the first time we had conflict.

There was a smile spread upon his facial features and I flinched underneath his hold as though that smile could do harm to me. A cry stuck in the middle of my throat along with the rest of the bile that wanted to escape. I wanted to vomit again – do it all over the kid in front of me – but I held it in, even swallowed a bit of it down. Then, my voice let out a whimper to let the other know my defeat, and that's when my head banged against the locker I was pushed onto and the cry in my throat screamed out.

I don't understand what he had against me. If you had to look at it from my point-of-view, I didn't do anything wrong. I couldn't see myself as a threat towards him... so what was the problem?

Pain spread throughout the crown of my head as he hit it onto the locker once more. My eyes wandered around the locker room and I noticed everyone else had left which put me into the same predicament I was in last time. Taking in a deep breath through my slightly opened lips, I glanced upwards to the boy's eyes (which were a deep sapphire shade I had to admire) then I struggled against the grip he held on my bangs, and called out:

"What the fuck is your problem?"

The look on his face almost showed he was taken back, but then he grinned down at me and loosened his hand around my hair. "You."

"Why?"

He muttered something about not needing a reason then followed by committing an act I never saw coming. Keeping his one hand on my shoulder to continue to hold me in place, the other let go of my hair and started to slide down the side of my face. I noticed his face become closer to mine and I closed my eyes as tightly as I could. Seconds later, harsh lips were touching my own. I wanted to thrash about, struggle against his grip, but instead I didn't move an inch. I was frozen in place as my mouth was pried open and his tongue entered to touch my own. Disgust overcame any other emotion. I breathed slowly through my nose trying my keep myself sane during the whole thing.

The moment the hand on my face curled so that what little nails he had could dig into my cheek, I flinched underneath him feeling my skin begin to slightly tear. That was when I finally regained the ability to move, and I shoved him off with as much force I could muster. Within seconds, I was hunched over for what seemed like the hundredth time today and spitting out whatever came up my throat.

I'm sure the janitor would be pleased to find yet another mess he needed to clean due to me in the locker room, but that would teach them not to miss a spot of my substance while cleaning up like he did last time.

* * *

The only time I ever saw that student was during our gym period and I was thankful that I didn't have to endure him any other time in my day. My mouth tasted like vomit throughout the rest of the day, no matter how many times I asked my teacher to get a drink from the water fountain, it just seemed to like to remain in my taste buds. It was my sixth period now which I thankfully shared with Tweek and I felt him staring at me from his seat. I turned my attention his way, and noticed a small frown spread upon his perfect lips.

"What happened to your face?"

Cocking my head to the side, I asked, "What do you mean?"

Tweek touched my left cheek where it stung from contact. "There are scratch marks running down your cheek…"

I quickly clasped my hand over the spot Tweek touched and lightly sighed. Somehow after the incident in the locker room, I managed to forget the part where the kid dug his nails into my skin. I hadn't checked in a mirror just how bad the damage had been afterwards, and I only assumed it wasn't _that _bad. But after Tweek pointed it out hours after it happened, I came to the conclusion other students noticed and I groaned at the blonde.

"It's a long story."

"Is it?" He questioned. "Or do you just not want to tell me?"

I turned my attention back to teacher in the front of my room, let go of my cheek, then placed my head on my desk and closed my eyes. "Both."

"You keep too many things to yourself, C."

"I have a lot going on." I muttered. And it was true, I _did _have a lot going on, and for some reason I didn't want to drag Tweek further into it than he already was. What was wrong with that?

At this point, I was done with everything, and as the teacher continued to drone on to the class and Tweek snuck glances my way every once in a while, I fell into a deep sleep in attempt to forget my life and go into a different one in the dream realm because that seemed to be the only thing I had left at this point.


	7. Chapter 7

_**In my opinion, this chapter isn't the best. But it's a little more light-hearted than some of the previous, so there's a plus. The second half of this chapter I actually wrote from my Creative Writing class last year, and I ended up really falling in love with the concept and thought, 'What the hell, why not put this in the actual story?' so I did.**_

* * *

**Chapter Six: Misadventures in a Shitty Town**

We were sitting in the restroom of a local grocery store in the stall that was made for the handicapped. My back was against the wall with my knees brought close to my chest wrapped up inside my oversized sweater. The knitted fabric rubbed on my bare legs which were in the shortest shorts I just received from Red only a few days prior. Across from me, I stared back to Tweek who had his legs sprawled before him and crossed at the ankles. Luckily for us, these stalls actually touched the ground so if anyone were to go into the one on the side, they wouldn't notice Tweek's butt on the ground. We were whispering to each other even though hardly anyone else came into the space during the hour we've been inside so far.

I wrapped my arms around my knees and set my arms on top of them while I listened to Tweek go on about the up-and-coming choir concert for the Christmas Holiday. He wanted me to go, there was no doubt about that. But to think about the fact that'd I'd more than likely be sitting alone in the school auditorium surrounded by several people who could not stand me for whatever reason it may be, just made me uneasy. His parents never went to any of his concerts in the past – they were usually too busy working at the coffee shop. I think it disappointed Tweek that his parents were more interested in their business than their son's greatest passion. He never really said much about it, but by the look on his face, I usually could tell that was it.

At one point I heard Tweek mention the fact they were going to sing a song that was a both a mix of English and Hebrew and I lifted my head from my knees narrowing my eyes towards him. No doubt did that have to do with the one and only Sheila Broflovski who thought the few Jewish people in town needed some sort of recognition to the Christmas Concert.

"Say something to me in Hebrew." I demanded smirking as I did so.

Tweek put a hand to his hair to lightly pull on it. "I may not be pronouncing it correctly but, _Chag Sameach _is what we say at the end of the song. I think it means something along the lines of 'Happy Holidays' but I really wasn't listening to the bitch as she went into detail about it."

"That is such bullshit!" I laugh, covering my mouth with my hands to hide my braces

"Yeah well, that's Mrs. Broflovski for you."

Sheila Broflovski was one person you did not want to mess with in the town of South Park. She's the mother to Kyle Broflovski who just so happens to be in the same grade as Tweek and I and also, _another_ person not to mess with. I usually didn't have a problem with Kyle, he mainly stuck near Stan Marsh and every once in awhile Kenny, making him the last individual to introduce from that foursome. I truly wouldn't have any sort of confrontation with Kyle until later in my junior year of high school when we sat next to each other in English. He actually has a huge part in that time period of my life. It was a rocky one that's for sure.

As Tweek went on to say other small phrases in Hebrew which literally sounded like he was going to hack something up, the restroom door opened and heels could be heard clicking on the tile.

Another reason as to why we were just sitting on the floor in a handicap stall is because I accidentally walked into the women's restroom with Tweek close on my trails to tell this small tidbit. But before we could leave, one of the toilets flushed and we quickly ran into the biggest stall to hide from whoever would walk out, and we just haven't left the area since.

Tweek was really working on trying to pronounce the proper h sound, while I stared at him with my hand still over my mouth to cover up all the laughing I was doing. Moments later, there was a knock on our stall, and I noticed black stiletto heels just peeking under the small space underneath the door.

"Are you all right in there?"

I tried really hard to hold in my laughter but it got to the point that I spit out through my lips and made this sort of _pffft _sound onto my hand, and just lost it after that. Tweek took one glance at me, with my saliva all over the palm of my hand and he was laughing along as well, tilting his head back onto the stall divider. I watched as the heels on the other side slightly wavered, and the left one started to tap the toes on the tile.

"What the hell is going on in there?"

In attempt to control my laughter, I breathed heavily through my mouth and once I got enough of it controlled I cleared my throat and tried to make my voice an octave higher.

"Just a little complication don't worry about me." I added a short laugh afterwards to make it seem like everything was fine. All during this Tweek was still making noise clutching the sides of his stomach.

I watched as her heels went inward to a pigeon toe structure. "It sounds like there's two of you in there."

I bit into my hand for a moment before responding with, "Oh, that's just my child. Don't mind him."

"Oh - well. All right."

And the heels disappeared only to enter the stall next to us. As I listened to the zipper of her clothing echo in the space, I quickly stood up, and grabbed Tweek's hand to pull him with me. "Let's go." I whispered. Unlocking the door, Tweek turned around for a moment to flush the toilet then we both darted from the stall and out towards the hallway sectioned off from the grocery store.

Finally in the clear, an old lady just happened to be near the women's entrance as we were existing and the moment I noticed how wide her eyes were, I took to a sprint towards the nearest grocery aisle.

I ended up running into the bread section, with my hands on my knees trying to catch my breath. I heard pounding footsteps in the distance and when I turned around to see Tweek darting my way, I straightened out and ran to the aisle beside ours.

I could hear him yelling, "Goddamn it, C." and I let out a loud chuckle. I happened to now be in the international foods section. Looking off to the side, I reached for the closet item that wouldn't break and as soon as I heard footsteps behind me once again, I quickly turned around, chucking a packet of instant noodles, which landed right in their chest.

"What the fuck?"

I froze with my hand still out before me, because the voice definitely belong to Tweek. Who I thought to be the blonde I was running from actually turned out to be an employee of the store, with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

"What the fuck are you doing?" The lady obviously had no problem yelling profanities in her work place.

Hands wrapped around my torso in attempt to pull me back. I think at one point I even stopped breathing, but as I turned to face the person touching me, I came to find it was Tweek. He had a large smile on his face which almost made me think the situation was all right. When his hands left my mid-section and one of them wrapped around my wrist, he started to pull me away from the scene with the employee yelling in the background. She kept repeating the same demand of "Come back" but by the time we reached the front of the store and she wasn't heard in the distance anymore, I figured we were fine. I walked through the automatic sliding doors with Tweek no longer holding onto me.

Outside it was hotter than hell, but that may have also been due to the fact I was wearing a knit sweater and was just running throughout a grocery store. Grabbing the bottom of the sweater, I swiftly pulled the article over my head, revealing a simple black t-shirt that was covered in various bleach stains. I held onto the sleeves to tie the garment over my waist, then smiled up to Tweek who was right by my side.

"I think I almost pissed myself back then.

"We were sitting in a bathroom stall for hours, C. You could have just done it then."

Punching him lightly in the arm, I followed with leaning into him while an arm wrapped around my side. We were aimlessly walking throughout the parking lot, basically just circling around each and every car parked until the sun began slowly beam down and I challenged Tweek to a race to my house.

"You're on, Tucker."

I pushed him out of reach, immediately taking off. These were the types of instances I liked to happen. Where they were carefree and not once did I have an encounter with an individual who had a say in how I looked. I wish I could say there were a lot of time like these but that would be a lie. If anything, until at least the age of nineteen, there were only about a handful of good ones.

* * *

In the mid-summer between the years of ninth and tenth grade, Tweek and I made a bet to jump off a bridge that resided in the outskirts of town. Beneath the bridge was a small creek with plenty of huge rocks on either side. Even though it was only about 10 feet above the ground, the thought of actually jumping off and possibly committing a double-suicide scared me. To be somewhat reasonable, I don't even remember our true intention for deciding upon it.

I dressed for the occasion by wearing a black camisole tank-top I stole from Ruby and shorts ending a tad above my knees. Wrapped around my figure, as well as concealing it from the outside world, was a yellow raincoat I found in my mother's closet. I wasn't wearing any shoes nor socks on my feet. I didn't see the point in ruining a air if we were just going to dive into the water anyways.

We didn't have a ride to the location, partially because we didn't want either of our parents to ask why we were going to a bridge outside of South Park, so instead we walked there. It wasn't anything too trudging, just about a mile from Tweek's house. I remember the two of us taking about anything and everything that came to mind, but not once did either of us mention what we were about to do, I think it had to do with the fact that we were scared about the possible outcome and also didn't want to psyche ourselves out, I was determined to get it over with and I think Tweek was as well.

By the time we reached the bridge, the sun was beginning to set. The orange and yellow hues hit the water that was streaming below the structure making it look prettier than it was actually was.

"Do you want to do a count off or have myself push you then I jump after?"

The question struck me as odd. I knew there was no way Tweek would be able to push me off the bridge, so instead of answering to whatever option I wanted I simply tore off my yellow raincoat and began to climb onto the wall of the structure. Behind me, I could hear Tweek asking what I was doing, but wasn't it obvious? I was doing exactly what we said we would.

There was a blow of wind I felt that I hadn't when I was on the ground. Looking down below, I noticed the current of the creek and how it slowly flowed downwards with any sort of strong force. There were more rocks than water,the substance would hardly catch my falling body.

Looking back, I glanced down to Tweek. He stood in a warm knitted sweater that reminded me of fall, with his arms crossed over his chest and his hair freely blowing in the wind. There was a look of worry plastered upon his face, and I carefully turned my body so that I was facing him full view.

"There's not enough water, I don't think I can do this." I called down towards him.

"Then what are you waiting for? Come down from there."

Peering over my shoulder, I took one last look to the creek below the bride. I couldn't take anything else in but the rocks, and just how jagged they were. I imagined there being a more than half chance of hitting my head against one of them, quickly bleeding out.

"This was a complete waste of time," I muttered while jumping off the wall. My feet slapped onto the cement below and it took everything within me not to cry out. Tweek was picking up my raincoat from the ground, handing it off to me. I'm pretty sure I looked idiotic wearing the piece of clothing on a day when rain wasn't in the forecast. Wrapping the synthetic yellow leather back around my torso, I then grabbed Tweek's hand holding onto it tightly, beginning to pull him behind me as I made my way off the bridge.

"I assume we're going home then…"

"No." We were now on the road and I turned off of it into the grass and down towards the creek. The grass was slightly wet underneath my feet, strays of it slipping between my toes in which I quietly laughed to myself, tugging even harder on Tweek's arm.

Now that we were up close to the creek, I noticed just how disgusting the water was. Not that the colour was off, because as I stated earlier it was a vibrant blue shade, but the water gave off a displeasing smell and I noticed small bits of trash I hadn't when I was standing over it. Dropping Tweek's hand, I jogged over to the nearest rock, stepping onto it to feel just how jagged it was. Then I jumped into the water, it splashed around my feet in a sloppy way, hitting my bare legs, almost touching my shorts. Behind me Tweek didn't move from the same spot as when I broke away from him. Instead, he stood back and watched as I kicked around in the creek water gaining as much enjoyment as I could muster. I continued to do so until eventually I slipped on the texture of the ground, resulting in my falling forward. I yelled out an 'Oh fuck' before I came crashing down onto some of the rocks. Immediately a sharp pain hit the side of my right calf and Tweek called out:

"Jesus Christ C, you're bleeding!"

And sure enough, being washed away in the water was my blood, bringing a new rusted hue to the creek. . I groaned wrapping my fingers around my newly found wound. I just couldn't seem to be without cuts and scrapes at all in my life. The blood continued to drift into the creek water, and whenever it splashed against the cut, it stung. I glanced back to Tweek who had his hand over his mouth. I didn't think the wound was that bad, but he hasn't seen some of the other's I've endured in the past, so this was new to him.

"Fuck. Think you can walk?"

The question was mumbled but I still understood the gist. I let go of my calf then set my palms onto one of the rocks I was sitting on. Once in a bent over position, (in which I really didn't feel too comfortable in because one: my shorts were sticking to my ass due to the water and two: bending over in general is just weird) the pain in the laceration seemed to get worse now that I was putting pressure onto it. But I still straightened out and attempted to crawl over the rocks.

This whole situation was just a bad idea to begin with. We never should have decided to come out the bridge in the first place, but hey, trying tell us that when the idea was fresh in our minds. I think what we expected was for there to be more water in the creek than there actually was, and in that case, then the water would be able to catch out fall. But not once did we think about the possibility of _rocks _surrounding the area. I wish instead of standing outside soaked in water and becoming cold from the sensation, I was wrapped up in the contents of my bedsheets with a pillow over my head, dead asleep.

We started to trek back towards Tweek house and that's when I remembered it was about a miles distance there. Stopping in my tracks, I put my face in the palms of the hands and screamed loudly. Tweek was a little ahead of me and he jumped from the sudden shock. I let my arms fall to my sides then glanced up to the sky exclaiming, "This fucking sucks." Then proceeded with the journey back to the house.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Seven: Fascination.**

Junior year. English class. I mentioned I used to sit next to Kyle Broflovski during this period. We never had any sort of confrontation in earlier years, mainly due to the fact that he hung around Stan Marsh and his bitch girlfriend during that time. Now having no sort of idea about him before, I worried Kyle would be very similar to the two he spent most of his time around. But much to my concern, he wasn't anything of the likes.

The second week of our junior year, we were assigned a partner project right off the start. Neither Stan nor Wendy were in this class, and having already sat next to each other, Kyle turned my way with a plea in his hazel eyes. Before even opening his mouth to ask, I nodded my head muttering a 'yes', and I could practically see Kyle exhaling the breath he was holding.

Our project was to do a research paper and presentation that we would present to the class about any topic we chose. It seemed like a pretty simple task overall, and it also came to my advantage to have Kyle as my partner. He's been known for overachieving homework assignments – I've been told such from Kenny on many occasions.

So as Kyle began to ramble on about different topics he thought about choosing, I sort of focused my attention on his facial features rather than completely focus on the words coming from his mouth. He was covered in freckles sort of like how Tweek was when the summer came around, but they were everywhere on Kyle. Hell, I even noticed a few scattered about his hands as he motioned them around while speaking. His eyes were hazel, but more on the grey side – similar to the shade of iron – and the more I focused on them, I noticed this ring of an ice blue colouring towards the pupils… this was around the time Kyle stopped speaking to give this confused look followed by asking:

"Are you even listening, Craig?"

I brought a hand to the fringe in the front of my hair (throughout the years, I started to let my straight-bangs grow out), and nodded. "Yeah, of course."

"Okay, because you looked kind of out of it."

"No I'm listening." It was a total lie, but I got Kyle to start talking again, and I focused my eyes on how there was a curl of his bright red hair hanging out of the green ushanka he was always seen wearing.

Kyle's been wearing the damned thing for as long as I can remember. And if I thought hard about it, I don't think I've ever seen all of his hair. That one curl was coming out from the side, beginning to come into his left eye and I got the urge to just pull it aside… but that'd be taking it too far. I mean, for all I knew Kyle was just as bad as Wendy in what he thought about me. So I left it hanging there, and it bothered me the whole period.

Eventually we agreed on the topic of agoraphobia – only because I mentioned it somewhere towards the end of the period, and also due to the fact my grandmother was known to have it. I figured that could an interesting point in the presentation in which I could elaborate a bit about a personal experience and Kyle totally agreed with the notion.

By the time the bell rung, I quickly jumped from my seat to head towards my free period (also known as study hall), but before I could go anywhere, Kyle grabbed my hand and began sprawling numbers across my skin in black pen.

"So we can reach each other outside of school."

I nodded my head with widened eyes, then started towards the classroom door clutching my hand to my chest. Finally getting out of the room, I came to find Tweek already waiting for me outside, and I smiled his way. But before we began walking to my class, he quickly pulled me close to him to plant a soft kiss upon my lips, and by the time I slightly pulled away in the corner of my eye I noticed Kyle standing off in the distance almost gawking at us. Already I could feel a blush forming on the rounds of my cheeks and that was around the time, I grabbed Tweek's arm with the hand that had the redhead's number sprawled across it.

"What's that?" Tweek asked, a bit of worry showing in his translucent eyes.

Shrugging, I let go of his arm, to casually walk beside him in the hall. "Kyle's number – we're working on a project together."

"I didn't know you two talked." He was gnawing on his bottom lip and I had to hold back the urge to tell him to stop.

"We don't. We just sort of sit next to each other and I guess none of his friends were in the class."

"That makes sense…"

And that was the end of _that_ conversation.

When he met the doorway to my study hall class, Tweek nonchalantly waved goodbye then started back towards his cooking class. I just stood in the doorway for a moment, watching as he went down the hallway until turning the corner and disappearing. Sighing, I finally grasped the doorknob, to enter the classroom and began trekking to my table in the back of the room.

Already my cousin Red and her friend Powder were seated at the round table, whispering amongst themselves about whatever it was they liked to talk about. Running my chair across the carpet, I sat my messenger bag next to my feet, and slowly sat down myself. I couldn't help but look at my hand once more and notice that the numbers were slightly slanted and any number that created a rounded shape within itself had a simple dot within it. In fear that it would rub off throughout the day, I bent over to rustle about my bag grabbing a random marker and slip of paper, copying the numbers upon it.

"Whose number is that, Craig?"

I looked up to see Red and Powder staring at me with curiosity. With them sitting right next to each other, it was almost impossible to tell them apart thanks to the similar red hair and blue eyes, but with Red being my cousin it made the task a little bit easier.

Powder – whose name is actually Sally – was a girl in my grade I wasn't too familiar with. If she wasn't a friend of Red's I probably wouldn't have known who she was. She's that forgettable. With that being said, I've had no previous encounters with Powder (Just like Kyle), but having hung out with Red, I assumed she was a pretty decent human being.

I focused my attention directly on Red, who I assumed was the one that asked me, and shrugged.

"Not important."

"You're not cheating on Tweek are you?"

If I would have something in my mouth, no doubt would I have spat it out. Slamming both hands down on the table, I shook my head harshly.

"Jesus Christ, Red. _No_. Besides, I'm pretty sure no one would be interested in me considering I'm known as being a freak."

I watched as Powder licked the soft pink lipstick she has shimmering on her lips, then opened them to speak. "It's just because of the way you dress…" she stated, as though I didn't already know that.

Rolling my eyes, I sat back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest as she continued speaking.

"Although, you look pretty normal today."

"Lightly noted, Powder."

It was true, that I did look normal as one would say. I wore an oversized black t-shirt, plain save for the bleach stains that were scattered about the collar from that one time I bleached my hair in the 9th grade, (That's a story to tell.) Paired with equally black skinny jeans with rather large holes in both knees, and old converse I stole from Tweek a few weeks back, this may have been the most socially acceptable I've dressed in a while.

"I was just giving a pretty reasonable expla -"

"Thank you, Powder!" I said a little louder in attempt to shut her up. The room was pretty quiet overall, and the loudness of my voice caused the teacher to glance back our way and give a really dirty look. But I ignored it, grabbing the marker I used earlier to write down Kyle's number, nonchalantly starting a lazy yet intricate pattern on my forearm while Red and Powder went back to whispering to each other.

The rest of the day didn't get any more exciting than that – well not until the end of the night.

* * *

"So basically it's like a mix of things?"

"Yeah... Like the fear of open spaces, going out in the unknown or going anywhere which may cause panic or embarrassment."

At the moment I was on the phone with Kyle at around midnight. The reason he called so late, I had no idea, but it wasn't like I was doing anything at the time anyways. I currently sat on my bed underneath practically every blanket I owned, with a notebook in lap scribbling down anything that came to mind. Right now it was naming any phobia I could think of at the moment in their technical name.

While Kyle started to read something that sounded like he was getting it from a WebMD website, I wrote down the most common _arachnophobia_ then decided to interrupt Kyle's speaking.

"What are you afraid of?"

I could tell I caught him off guard but the abrupt way he stopped talking and sort of drawled out the last word he pronounced. "What?"

"Phobias – name one of yours, I'm making a list right now."

"Uh, okay. I guess the dark?"

"What's the technical name? You're by a computer, right?" I didn't even bother to what for a response. "Mind looking that up for me?"

There was a slight pause, shuffling around and I even heard the sound of Kyle clicking the keyboard on the other end.

"Uhm, Achluphobia?"

"Nice, do you mind spelling that?" And Kyle even went about doing such. Followed by asking:

"What's this for again? Shouldn't we be talking about the project?"

I sighed, tapping the end of my pen on my notebook. "We've got a whole month for that! I don't know anything about you."

I could hear Kyle laughing on the other end, he actually had a pretty nice laugh. "You're weird, but okay. We'll go back and forth – you're turn."

Luckily for me, I memorized just about every fear I could name about myself, and had the technical names already written on my paper. "All right… Isolophobia – fear of being alone."

"You're alone right now though, aren't you?"

"Not in a house full a people" I stated, adding a little bit of sarcasm at the end.

"Right, whatever." But he was laughing again when he said this. "Pnigophobia, fear of choking, need me to spell that?"

"Nope." I popped the 'p' at the end, bringing to try to spell the word because honestly, I didn't really know how to spell it, and after looking at the butchered letters, I shuffled the phone in hand laying it on the bed next to my thighs pressing the 'speaker' button. "You're on speaker now by the way, annnnd…"

"Wait why?" Kyle interrupted.

"Because my hand got tired."

"..Oh."

I smiled lightly. "Aviophobia."

"What's that?"

"Fear of flying – oh so original, right? I'm like the rest of the 1/3rd population that has it."

"Have you ever been on a plane?"

I shook my head, letting my fringe flap, but then I realized he couldn't see me. "No."

"Isn't that how majority of people are with that fear? They've never been on a plane."

"I think it has to do with the fact that I've ever done it, and being in the air is just a scary thought."

There was slight pause as though, Kyle didn't know to reply until finally coming up with another fear "Thantophobia, fear of – "

"Dying." I cut him off. That was one I knew only because of Kenny, I had a huge long conversation with him about it not too long ago. "Cleithrophobia; being locked in enclosed spaces." I was writing that one on the page, when I heard Kyle clearing his throat.

"Isn't that like Claustrophobia?"

"Eh, not really."

"What's the difference?"

Ignoring his question, I replied with:

" Trypophobia. Don't look it up."

"...Craig." I don't know why he said my name at the exact moment but I liked it.

"I'm serious, I didn't realize I had the phobia until I looked it up."

"I'm gonna do it."

"Wait, what? Kyle… don't."

"You mentioned it."

Sighing loudly, I almost threw the phone across the room, but then I remembered this was the house phone and I really wasn't in the mood for being bitched at by my father for possibly breaking it. There was a moment of complete silence except for the few sounds of Kyle's keyboard, it almost becoming a white noise. So by the time he finally spoke again, I nearly jumped off the bed.

"Hey, Craig… what are you wearing?"

I'm pretty sure I stopped breathing around then. "What?!" I gasped out.

"Fuck – ugh – I meant like how you wear pretty feminine clothes to school I was just curious what you wear to bed." Pause to let that sink in a few seconds. "Or, crap, I don't mean it like that. Aughh."

Unable to contain it, I threw back my head, hitting the wooden headboard with a 'thud' and laughing loudly.

"Kyle… Kyle, omigosh." I couldn't get out what I was trying to say. Somewhere in the middle of all my laughing, Kyle could be heard screaming at me, and from down the hall, the sound of my parent's bedroom door opening echoed throughout the hallway. Suddenly, my door opened with my father standing in plaid pajama pants and a simple white t-shirt, an ugly scowl plastered upon his features.

"What the fuck you still doin' up, Craig?"

That was when everything fell quiet. Quickly I tapped the 'speaker' button, sliding the phone a little bit under my pillow out of Thomas's sight.

"Sorry." I muttered.

"It's two in the mornin' boy, get your ass to sleep."

Bringing my knees close to my chest, I wrapped my arms around them because I was more than half sure he was staring at my shirt which happened to be one of Mom's I stole from her a few months back. The fabric as completely see-through, black silk with nothing underneath it. The sleeves hung off my shoulders exposing as much skin as pleased. Having committing the action, I realized it probably wasn't the best considering the shorts I were wearing used to belong to Red for when did aerobics and hardly covered my ass.

"Craig."

Cringing, I dare asked:

"Yes?"

"Get out of those pansy clothes."

And then he left the room without closing the door. I felt like screaming. But instead, I set my head on my knees, then went to blindly pull the house phone from underneath the pillow.

"Did you hear that?"

For a moment, there wasn't any sort of answer, until Kyle finally muttered a yes.

"Don't tell anyone."

And I hung up.

* * *

The next day I came to school wearing a t-shirt I stole from Tweek, it was a space camp shirt he got from a thrift store and I fell in love the moment he showed it to me. I wrestled him to get that shirt, which eventually lead to us kissing each other on the floor in his bedroom and engaging in a deep conversation about aliens. Before I went home that night, I made sure to sneak the shirt into my jacket then fled from his house when he asked me why it looked like I had breasts

The shirt was a soft sea foam green with faded lettering on the front, and a bunch of children's names I didn't know on the back. Somewhere in the middle of first showing me that shirt, I grabbed a black sharpie Tweek has lying randomly in his room, sprawling both our names in my broken cursive. I thought it was a cute touch to the shirt overall.

Wrapped around my waist was a black flannel with golden buttons, (totally the reason why I bought it) matched with a pair of black shorts that met my knees. It happened to also be one of those days I broke out my blue chullo from my elementary days and when I walked into English I noticed Kyle give me a confused look, so I simply flipped him off, taking my seat next to him.

"Haven't seen that thing in a while."

Shrugging, I turned to face the redhead, leaning in closer to him. "Sorry about last night."

"Oh, that – it's no problem."

So I stopped there, leaning back in my seat and crossing my arm over my chest. I could see Kyle staring at me in the corner of my brown eyes, just staring, like he was waiting for me to glance over at him.

"Space camp?"

"Long story."

I noticed this one freckle he had right above his top lip on the right, it was away from the rest of the freckles on his face, and for some odd reason I felt the urge to lick it.

"I feel like I don't understand you at all, Craig."

"Not too many do."

For the rest of the period, we didn't speak too much. Mainly because the teacher decided to lecture about how to write a proper research paper, as though junior's in high school didn't already know how to do so. During most of it, I tuned her out, doodling in my notebook and writing small verses to songs I had stuck in my head. At one point, Kyle grabbed my pen out of hand to ask if I was doing anything after school. That was around the time I began choking on the saliva in the back of my throat and had to leave the classroom to get a drink of water.

As I walked down the hallway, I couldn't help but wonder where this interest about me from Kyle came from, but I could only come to the conclusion that he probably asked if I was doing any after school for the sake of the project. Gathering my breath, I walked back to the class without even getting that drink of water, immediately telling Kyle 'no'.

And that was when he asked me to come over to his house.

I don't understand why I was reacting the way I was, because when I read the words on the paper, I screamed. Like a little squeak that resembled a mouse.

Smooth.

In return he gave me an odd look, and I quickly nodded my head at him. So that was when he continued writing on my paper, giving me his address. As I watched him carefully write each letter out, I noticed that Kyle wrote in capitalized letters - and that bothered me.

Around the time that the bell rung, I grabbed my messenger bag in the same swift motion as I stood up, exiting before anyone could. Tweek wasn't anywhere in sight yet, and I took that to my advantage of running to the restroom to hide for my next period class.

Taking the furthest stall from the door and locking it, I sunk down by the wall not anywhere near the toilet, taking a black pen out and beginning to write questions on my arm. I did this for the entire 45 minutes I had study hall until I couldn't put another single letter on my arm. It was a mess, and I'm surprised that later on in the day I could even read it. But after I felt content enough about it, I untied the flannel from my waist to slip on so that I could easily hide the words, and as soon as the bell rung, I headed straight to lunch.

* * *

Somehow during the rest of the school day the pen on my arm began to rub off, so when it got to around the time Kyle and I had worked an hour on the project we took a break. Casually, I slipped my flannel off to glance down at my arm only to notice half of the words running into each other due to the small space I was working on and also majority of them were smeared somehow. Groaning loudly, I leaned my head back so it hit the wall behind me, causing Kyle to peer down, then ask what the hell it was I wrote.

"A questionnaire of sorts. I don't know, I figured we would have down time."

"When'd you find the time to do that?"

"I skipped my study hall period – not like I would have been done anything in there anyway."

That was around the time we got into the conversation of how I found it so easy to skip classes. I found it easier to talk to Kyle by the second. We've only been working on this project, but it seems like we've been talking to each other for much longer than that.

Before we knew it, hours passed, and we were still engrossed in whatever it was that could come to mind at this point. We were both sprawled across his bed – him lying on his back staring up towards the ceiling, while I laid on my stomach, head cradled by my arms which also held my flannel as a pillow, and looking directly at Kyle.

With each word that spilled from his mouth, I couldn't help but focus majority of my attention on that damned freckle that resided next to his upper lip. I didn't even notice that I was beginning to gravitate closer towards him until I found myself lifting myself up on my arms to hover over his face.

His hazel eyes shifted from the ceiling to the brown hues to mine, worry quick to spread upon his features, but if I looked hard enough I sensed a hint of mischief.

As I stared harder at that one freckle, I quickly found myself lowering my face until my chapped lips met his and in moment we were kissing. Not a simple kiss like Tweek and I usually shared. The moment our lips touched, Kyle was prying mine open immediately running his tongue against my own.

That was around the time I freaked, pulling away almost as soon as it happened and gathering my flannel off the bed.

"I – I'm sorry." I stammered. "I can't do this. I can't."

My hands were going crazy, running harshly through my fringe not quite sure what else to do. Taking one last glance at Kyle, I saw just how confused he was himself. He slowly sat up, eyes not once leaving my figure.

"Craig…"

I couldn't listen to this. Wrapping my flannel around my waist, I walked towards the door, hand upon the handle, not bothering to hear what it was Kyle was about to say.

"I can't fucking do this!" I yelled. "I'm sorry Kyle."

Then I left as fast as I could, staggering down the staircase and just hoping that I could get to Tweek's house as quickly as possible.

* * *

When I reached Tweek's house which just so happened to be only a few blocks away from Kyle's I was panting like crazy, banging harshly on the wooden door until Mrs. Tweak came to answer with a worried expression spread upon her features. She was dressed in cotton pajama bottoms that had small coffee cups scattered about the fabric, and I'm pretty sure if I hadn't been panicking (and out of breath) at the moment, I would have complimented them just to see the blush that would arise on her cheeks.

I waved at her, attempting to get out a 'hi' which sounded more like I was gasping for breath, then she stepped to the side, allowing me to pass through. As soon as I entered the house, I took off towards the staircase, taking two steps at a time, and upon reaching Tweek's bedroom, I slammed into the wood, immediately regretting it moments later. Grasping the doorknob, I shoved the door open, slightly smiling when I saw Tweek lying in bed, nonchalantly listening to music.

"Tweek I'm so sorry." But it came out unable to even understand half the words I said.

Jumping up from his bed, the blonde walked over to me, grabbing my hand to pull me further into the space, closing the door behind us.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, worry in his eyes. "Why the hell are so sweaty?"

Sitting down his bed, I completely collapsed, taking off the practically all of my clothing except for the plain black boxers I wore and a white wife-beater. I could tell Tweek was slightly uncomfortable watching me strip on his bed, by the way he couldn't seem to find a spot in the room to set his eyes, but I didn't care. I was hot.

"I ran all the way here from Kyle's"

"Why?"

"Because - because I did something I shouldn't have and flipped."

"...What'd you do?"

This was the moment I wish I could avoid. Like, thinking back to it now, I regret half of the shit I did that night, because if I hadn't kissed Kyle, then I wouldn't have needed to tell Tweek and then he wouldn't have done the things he ends up doing in weeks to come, and everything would just be fucking peachy. But no, I fucked up big time and there was no reversing it. So as explained each word to the blonde before me of the previous events, eventually tears struck my eyes and there was no stopping them as soon it happened. As I openly cried to Tweek, he just watched me, until everything I said was done and we just sat in silence.

If there was anything I could to make the situation less awkward. Adjusting my wife beater on my figure, I focused my sight on the carpet of Tweek's room, refusing to back at him until he spoke.

"I forgive you."

Right at that second, I felt like screaming as loud as I could. Scream obscenities that would cause Tweek's mom to walk into the room to ask me to leave. Every emotion within bubbled in my chest, until I just could not take it anymore. Standing up, I slowly paced the room, thinking a thousand thoughts per minute. It wasn't until I walked over to the furthest wall away from Tweek – screamed – then punched it as hard as I could.


End file.
